Recollection
by Adeleste
Summary: The doctors said it was amnesia, but there had to be something else. Something else the world just wasn't telling me. And who was this Jesse? Reviews are appreciated.
1. Ch 1 Introduction

A/N: Hi people. I know it's been a while, but I've decided to pick up fanfiction again. This story idea has been in my head since I first started reading the series.

**Please tell me if you like the story idea, if it's original enough to your taste, basic inpute, positive or negative, PLEASE. Please read and review!!!!!!**

Disclaimer: I love Meg Cabot. Please don't hate me for totally jocking off your characters.

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_They claimed it was amnesia._

_Yet, somehow, in my concussed mind, I knew that there was something else. There had to be something else. Something huge must have landed me in the hospital that fateful day. Something so awful, in fact, that my doctors could not, or would not, explain. The unsettling thing was waking up with most all personal memories missing, all identity gone; it felt as though my life had passed without me knowing. _

_I could only remember things Id learned in school, not any personal memories, like, the first time I rode my bike. Or who I was exactly. I couldn't even remember those I loved the most. Did I have friends? Who were they? Most every memory dear and precious to me was lost. I suppose there was a plus. I mean, my brain wasn't fastidious in choosing which memories to forget._

_Two months in a hospital wing, recalling how to walk. It took me twenty minutes to walk one hundred feet. Going through all those tests and scans. Learning how to hold a fork. Back to basics required isolation from everyone but my doctors. Even my mother wasn't allowed near me. Not that I minded. How could I, when I couldn't even remember what I looked like, let alone my mother? Mirrors were prohibited from my room due to the fact that they would "unsettle the patient's already precarious mind," quote unquote my psychiatrist. They even had the bathroom mirrors removed. _

_Each night Id be alone in my bed, the white walls surrounding me, enclosing me. I would hear and see things but never know what they truly were. Flashes of my past would linger in my mind, and then fade tauntingly. I was left in the whispering darkness trying to recollect, screaming with frustration at the lost lifeline to my past._

_They'd look at me, the miracle, in wonder, each time the accident was mentioned. How did you survive the accident? Good question. Somehow, I did, despite a damaged spine that healed in a single defying month. I was a walking miracle, they said. I should have been crippled, a vegetable, or-most likely-, dead. The doctors had said I suffered a major concussion, a snapped vertebra, torn ligaments, ruined tissue, and so much more damage on my entire body, things the specialists would clear their throats at and write something down on a clipboard, making them avoiding the topic entirely. I suppose it was fine. I was so sure I would learn eventually._

_What was the accident? Id inquire. But no one would tell me. Oh no. It was too awful for my recuperating mind to handle._

_Somehow, I knew something __big__ was missing from my life. Not the tissues missing out of my backside, nor the new scars. Scars fade eventually, and so would my memories if I never retrieved them. _

_Hopefully, everything would gradually come back to me._

_After those two grueling months of isolation, rehab, relearning, and pain, I was finally permitted to see my mother. It took awhile, but in the back of my mind, I remembered her. Did she always have blue eyes and shadows under her eyes? _

_For the first time, my mom told me, she was taking care of me._

_I didn't get it. I didn't think I ever would.

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No, really--reviews are the most inspirational thing. =]


	2. Ch 2 Lost Memories

A/N: Do pardon the long delay. Thanks everyone for all the reviews!! I haven't written in a while because I'm trying to hone my writing skills. I really hope I don't disappoint. This chapters a little slow, but I have to introduce the storyline slowly. Don't worry, Jesse will be here soon.

Not to the wise; when cooking with oil, do NOT let it splash. Ever. It leaves nasty burns/blisters/puffy-ness.

On with the chapter!

One more thing; beware of forks. They can impale quite easily.

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Ch 2

Freedom, I had heard, was a pleasant experience. Yet if freedom was always this painful, I wasn't quite sure if I really wanted it. As Mom wheeled me to the automatic doors, the nurses all waved goodbye: "So long, Miracle Girl—it really is a shock that you've survived for so long. Avoid the same…_accident_ that landed you here in the first place." They didn't actually say that, but I could almost see it in their eyes as they shook their heads, mumbling to one another, looking at me with false cheeriness. As I sat there thinking, oddly enough, I had a strange feeling that I didn't go out of my way for whatever sent me to ICU. I winced as soon as we passed the automatic doors and reached the cement. Bloody potholes…with all the taxes New York was paying, one would _think _that they would contribute some to simple road maintenance. Doesn't the city consider the poor patients who are hypersensitive to shockwaves? I made a mental note to never leave a hospital in a wheelchair, no matter how incapable I was of walking. It wasn't worth the pain in my—

_Thud._

I grit my teeth when we went over an exceptionally deep one.

"Um, Mom, could you possibly avoid the potholes, please?"

She apologized profusely and I almost regretted mentioning the potholes. It was so bright outside, I felt my eyes contract from…disuse? No…I had my fair share of _Days of Our Lives_. Perhaps not disuse…more like my eyes just weren't used to so much natural light. Actual _sunshine. _As if telepathically, m_y_ mom handed me a pair of sunglasses as she scanned the parking lot for our car. I smiled my thanks and, gingerly, I flipped open the glasses and put them on. Instantly, my pupils adjusted and I grudgingly smiled. I look like I'm blind, but that's okay

I never remembered New York being so bright. Nor this hot…or spacious. Where were all the skyscrapers? The street vendors?

"Should have parked in the garage…at least it has signs…" I heard my mom mutter. I frowned, utterly confused. This didn't sound like Brooklyn either. No horns, no chatter. Scattered in the parking lot were, not pigeons, but seagulls.

Seagulls. Honest to God live seagulls.

And not your Little Mermaid ones either. These looked evil. They just kept staring at me with those beady eyes of theirs, eyeing me up and down. One even had the gall to inch up to my wheelchair. Um. Right. I just got out of a hospital and they expected me to feed them?

Try ivy fluid. Highly nutritional. In fact, it's all you need, really.

I frowned again and tried to remember who I was.

I am Susannah Simon. I live in Brooklyn with my mom, not as admired as the Bronx for its crime rate, but close enough. My dad died way back in the day. Except…I could swear I saw him recently…

What else? I felt my eyebrows furrow. Something was missing. Something crucial was missing. None of this explained why, for instance, New York was suddenly magically seventy degrees, in, I could swear the calendar said, March. Though I couldn't remember, I had the distinct feeling that my mother's eyes were never this fatigued. And the biggest question of all was why I even wound up in the hospital.

Really. Why the hell was I in a hospital?

I heard Mom clap her hands behind me. I couldn't see, being confined in a wheelchair, and all. "Ah! Found it!"

I felt myself being turned a full three-sixty degrees and suddenly, I found myself being helped into and strapped inside a car.

The sad thing was I wasn't even sure we owned a car.

The drive home was silent. Mom was obviously exhausted, so I just stared out the tinted windows. I leaned in closer, disbelieving. So many palm trees! I glanced around, forgetting my exasperation. Did I get hurt on vacation? Whatever it was, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or, New York. As we passed multiple overpasses, I tried to recognize the streets and landmarks. Pebble Beach…Big Sur…Junipero Avenue…Scenic Road…Seventeen Mile Drive…Monterrey State Highway…Ocean Avenue…we passed numerous streets with Spanish sounding street names. I felt an eyebrow raise as realization dawned. Were we on vacation in California?

I was shocked when we pulled into a sloping street. Mom cut the engine, removed her seatbelt, and got out of the vehicle. She slammed the door and the pregnant silence unnerved me. I was nervous. Incredibly nervous. Where was I? What were we doing here? The silence was deafening and I resisted the urge to…to what? Scream? My door opened and I saw my mother's face.

"We're here."

We had stopped in front of a huge three story house, with white sidings and blue shutters. I didn't want to be paranoid, or point out the obvious, but this was not our apartment. The driveway was shady, covered in pine needles. As I rolled along, they crunched beneath me, almost like the fallen leaves back in Central Park. In New York, we didn't have a driveway. Heck, we hardly had trees in the city, let alone the front of our house.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flicker. I looked up and saw a window above the porch. The curtain was fluttering in the breeze, almost too serenely. I could picture a white picket fence and everything. The house seemed to entice me, luring me closer and closer.

It wasn't easy, but we managed to get to the front door. My mom started digging around in her purse for the house keys. After what seemed like hours, I was pushed inside. The first thing I saw were photos. There must have been at least fifty photo frames on the wall, all arranged neatly, perfectly parallel to the ground. I eagerly looked at the ones nearest me. A cute little thing with two missing front teeth…glamorous people at a wedding…another wedding photo…a girl and three boys…I didn't recognize any of these people. I eventually paused in front of a picture of a teenage girl. She had brown hair, almost chestnut color hair. It had a healthy sheen, almost polar opposite to my listless mane. Because I wasn't allowed to have a mirror, I didn't know what my face looked like. I continued to study the photo. She had the most startling green eyes, which just happened to be upturned, gazing at some distant spot not to far from her. It was odd—the picture didn't seem like a professional one; I thought, confused, "Wouldn't she be looking at the camera?" She seemed to be utterly content, at ease with herself and the world. How I envied that.

I continued down the row of pictures, scrutinizing each and every one. I was just about to wheel away when the last picture stopped me. It was that girl again, standing in front of a fireplace in a beautiful white gown. Her orchid corsage matched her dress brilliantly. It must have been a formal occasion…a dance or something. However, she wasn't alone.

Next to her, with his arms wrapped tenderly around her waist was a guy. For a moment, I thought I recognized him, but the familiarity instantly dissipated. He was gorgeous, the epitome of Adonis if there ever was one. Since this wasn't our home, I tried my best to remember the contours of his face-I didn't think I'd see this picture for very long. Instinctively, I reached out and tried to touch his face.

No…what was I doing? I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that my mother was watching me intently, almost willing me to remember.

I tried to speak. "Mom." That simple palindrome sounded so unfamiliar. I cleared my dry throat and tried again, louder. "Mom. Who is she?"

I pointed at the photo.

The boy and girl looked so radiant…so alive.

My mom looked at the photo, then back at me. Her lower lip started to tremble and her blue eyes welled up in tears. I felt my heart sink. Good grief, was I the reason why she looked so aged now? So abject?

"Suzie…" Was that what she called me? The endearment was so foreign. "Can't you remember **anything**?" She tried to stifle her sobs, but against her will, they racked through her thin frame.

I didn't want to upset her even more. That was probably my best friend or something and I couldn't even remember her.

I hated this feeling of helplessness.

I gingerly reached out for my mom, but then, I heard running footsteps and a boy with a mop of red hair flounced into the room. "SUZE!" He beamed a wire-y grin. "You're home!"

I blinked and stared at him. I was about to feign recognition but faltered. Who was this scrawny kid? Through my confusion, he went on about how they x-rayed my whole body, performed several tests, drew my blood by the milliliter… I honestly didn't know, and I honestly didn't want to know.

I shook my throbbing skull. "Do I know you?"

His face completely fell and he stopped talking. He looked to my mother and back at me. "Don't you remember me?"

I raised an eyebrow. Mom turned to him, still crying. "She doesn't even know what she looks like let alone who you are."

The boy turned to me. He couldn't have been a day over fourteen. Tears welled in his eyes as well. He muttered, "Amnesia. I was hoping that when she woke up from the coma she'd remember…apparently her mind didn't recover as miraculously as her body did, so much trauma…"

I ignored him. "So? Who's she?" I pointed to the photo again, angry that they were talking about me as though I wasn't there.

"Suzie…" Mom shook her head. "David, get a mirror."

David left as quickly as he came. As I watched his retreating figure turn a corner, an image flitted into that blank canvas I call memory; I remembered calling him…my mind drifted back to one of those lonely nights in the hospital when I was watching…

Snow White.

I snorted. Gosh, I really am deranged.

David came back, clutching a mirror. I gave him a comforting smile, but he started crying.

"What's wrong, um, David? I'm sorry that I can't remember you. I've just gotten out of the hospital and I-"

"I know you just got out of the hospital!" he retorted defensively. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, but I can't remember you. Are you a neighbor? A classmate of mine? I really am sorry, but-"

David started crying even harder. "Suze," he choked, "You really don't remember me, do you." He waited for me to say something. Anything. But I didn't.

"Suze…I'm your stepbrother."

Then he ran up the stairs.


	3. Ch 3 More of Me

Ch 3 More of Me

A/N: Seriously? Thank you guys for adding me to your author alert list. It warms my heart and makes me feel like a terrible writer when I don't update. So thank you. D I hope this isn't filler chapter, but it's getting to the good stuff. Enjoy.

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I truly wanted to apologize, but as I reached out for his retreating form, I realized that I was trapped in a wheelchair. His name died before it even left my throat. I gripped the railing and attempted to rise, but my arms and legs refused to support my weight. I lowered myself, defeated. My arms were taut from the strain and I cursed in my head. "Parental Advisory: Explicit (Brain) Content." I needed a sticker of sorts branded to my forehead.

If I said that there was an "awkward pause" after David left, it would be the understatement of the century. There's no word in the English language that could properly label that palpable moment. Once David slammed his door, or what I assumed was his bedroom door, I remained in my wheelchair at the foot of the stairs. The silence was so audible; it was a paradox in itself. I wished the wheelchair were an elevator into the vestibule of Hell…or perhaps limbo, among the poets. Sans the wasps; I didn't think the wasps would be bearable. But I couldn't stand this. I purposely evaded my mother's apologetic and sympathizing gaze, because really? Enough was enough. I was sick of feeling so hollow. What is a person without a memory? A shell? A vessel? I had to regain my memory back.

Since the accident, all my senses seemed muted. Time seemed mockingly slow as David fled. I lost all sensations in my body. I was numb. Even the door sounded muffled. Food has been bland since I woke up and any scent left me gagging. I needed to live again. I needed to know. I needed someone who would remind me of everything I was. I needed now.

"Hand me the mirror, please."

I turned towards my mother and saw her eyes widened with utmost horror. "Um, Suzie? Are you sure? Don't you want me to put makeup on you so-"

I interrupted her. My patience had reached its limit. I didn't need a gilded façade. I needed to see what I looked like. "Just give me the mirror, Mom." I extended my hand toward her, waiting. I felt my fingers twitch in anticipation. Hah. I could raise my arm for a mirror but not raise my body. I wasn't a vain person.

My mom probably regretted asking David to bring down a mirror. I was surprised that David, amidst all that emotional turmoil, left the mirror on the table. She slowly reached for the mirror, but before she handed it to me, she asked, "Susannah, are you sure you want to see yourself? You've been indoors for a while now, and you've been through so much…that California tan you worked on is gone, and you don't have any makeup on, and…sweetie, I think it's for the best if you wait a little."

I shook my head. "No, Mom. Now. I need to see for myself who I am."

All I seemed to do was make her cry, I mused for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "You're still the same bullheaded, stubborn girl I raised." The tears, the trembling voice! That was all I ever heard.

I tried to ignore this statement, but it comforted me; I was glad I wasn't a completely different person. Maybe there was hope. I grabbed the ornate handheld mirror and anxiously awaited my reflection.

I was emaciated, like those Holocaust victims I saw on the History Channel. Positively gaunt, yet the notion of sustenance made me sick. There was no way in Hell I was once a vivacious soul. It seemed like a gentle breath from Heathcliff on a wintry moor could blow me over.

The girl in the mirror reached up to touch her face. Hopefully she wasn't a vain person in her past life, because she was long past her glory days. In her sunken face were too-bright emerald eyes, etched in purple, that seemed so fatigued, it was amazing they were even open. Her complexion beneath a garish scar was a sickly jaundice-like hue. Prominent cheekbones, which once may have been the envy of many, protruded out in a garish, Jolly Roger effect. Her lanky hair was in desperate need of attention. There was something familiar about her, but the change was so drastic…there was no recognition on my part. What had happened?

"That photo you were looking at - the one with the girl in white? - is you."

I turned my eyes away from the mirror and stared up at my mother. Eyebrows upturned, she nodded emphatically. "You're so beautiful. Just give it some time and you'll be back to the way before the accident."

Again with that damn accident. Fuck-I mean, damn it all. "I need some time. By myself."

She nodded in understanding. "Of course. You need rest. I-" She opened her mouth but decided against it. Resignedly, she said, "They're giving you time to recuperate, but I hate how Father Dom wants you back in school by next week. They don't want you to remain at home for so long…supposedly you'll go stir crazy. What with me not being home and all…"

I nodded.

"Just give it some time, Suzie. You'll be fine."

Time? I needed more than time. I needed a lifetime, or however long it took for things to return to normal.

My mom made a special place in the family room for me to sleep that night. Or afternoon. But saying 'night' made me sound less like a senile, old decrepit person. The doctors wanted me to stay in the wheelchair another few days, just to keep the strain off my spine and legs. Apparently, my legs were pretty bashed up. From whatever the accident was. I had to go to physical therapy tomorrow.

I tried to kick off my socks when immense pain shot up my legs. It was so painful that I needed Mom to help peel them off.

I thanked my mother for helping me with my socks and positioning me on the sofa and I turned my face towards the cushions. My mother pulled a light blanket over me and she fluffed my pillows until they were giant marshmallows. I tried to remember if I liked my pillows like marshmallows, or if I even liked marshmallows. Did I like the chewy consistency? Their stickiness?

My mom shut the blinds, blocking out the bright daylight. It made me feel less vampiric.

"'Night, Suzie. Sweet dreams."

Though I wanted to pout, I whispered, "Tell David I'm sorry."

"Yes, darling, he knows you are."

"I'm sorry for everything else as well."

Mom was probably looking at me. "It's not your fault for the accident, honey. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I inwardly smiled. That was the most information I got since I awoke.

_He was in my dreams. Only, I didn't know if it was a dream or a memory. We were sitting on the carpeted floor, playing a simple game of cards. I didn't recognize the game; only that it allowed time for questions. I was the last one to put down a grouped pair. "Go fish." He looked up at me with his mesmerizing eyes and I was enthralled. I crossed my legs at the ankles uneasily. It was unnerving how my resolve evaporated every time he turned those eyes on me. I was so plain next to him. _

_In a husky voice, he asked, "If you were forced to sacrifice a sense, which one would you forgo?"_

_I put down my cards, face down, and deliberated for a moment. It was his turn. Why wasn't he asking me for a jack or something?_

_I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't notice how close he had gotten to me. Before I knew it, he was right in front of my face, on his hands and knees, stroking me from my chin to my ear. I noticed how his legs and hands were trapping my legs._

_"I…" his eyes bore into my own. "I know this may be…selfish…but…" my felt my breathing hitch when his large hand moved to the sensitive part of my neck and began twirling minute circles. "I don't want to lose any."_

_He raised a scarred eyebrow at me ever so slowly. I felt chills climb up my back as he inquired, "Indeed?" his breath hot against my skin. He continued with his slow torture, eventually moving his hand to my lower lip. I felt my lip tremble in anticipation._

_Cards abandoned, he inched forward until his body hovered over mine. Heat emanated off his skin. My pulse raced. If he listened closely, I was sure he could hear my heart. _

_"Why wouldn't you forfeit your sight?" he murmured._

_I swallowed. "If I lost my sight, I would never be able to see you again."_

_His fingers, like teasing butterflies, trailed down from my face…slowly…taunting me…daring me to grab his hand and move it where I wanted it. I inhaled, biting my lip when his hand rested on my heart. His lips upturned into a slow, sensual smile; he must have felt my pounding heart do cartwheels. _

_"What about your sense of smell?" he asked._

_I leisurely pushed off the ground with my arms. "I have so many things in life yet to smell; it would be a shame."_

_"Quite true, querida, but I must ask; what about your sense of taste?"_

_I smiled. I've never seen him in this mood before. He had always been the perfect gentleman. I lifted my body. I supposed two could play this game, I thought and I simply replied, "A life without chocolate is no life at all."_

_A chortle erupted from his throat. "Just swell; remind me to purchase some more Cadbury. I suppose you need to endorphins… and natural aphrodisiac qualities of chocolate. But what about hearing?"_

_I leaned in and whispered seductively, "What would I be without the sounds of violins and Jesse de Silva?"_

_His hands moved to the small of my back. He started to massage me. I heard a soft plea escape my lips. _

_"What about your sense of touch?"_

_Suddenly, I_ felt.

I gasped, my eyes shooting open. It was the dead of night, and my alarm glared daggers at me. "One in the morning, you foolish invalid!" I rolled my eyes, then realized that I was, indeed, rolling my eyes at my alarm clock.

Memories of the dream flooded me with embarrassment. I covered my face with a pillow, trying to avoid the stares of all the family portraits. It was only flirty badinage. I had no reason to feel humiliation. Perhaps it was the fact that I was dreaming of a complete chimerical Mr. Darcy―

Hand mid-way through my disarrayed hair, I stopped. Hold the thought…was he so fantastical?

I rummaged around in the dark until my hand collided with my wheelchair. I grimaced in pain. I was going to feel that in the morning. I tried to position myself properly into the chair and, twenty minutes later, I had the lamp turned on. I wheeled myself towards the photographs. Jesse de Silva…querida…a scar…

Liquid brown eyes halted my motion. He wasn't fake. He was real. And in the latest portrait, his arm was around my waist. Jesse? Who are you? Would he know of the accident? Would he tell me?

I slowly made my way back to the sofa. Utterly exhausted, I crawled out of the wheelchair and thumped into bed, fast asleep.

A/N: Again, please review!


	4. Ch 4 The Hospital

A/N: Wow, I think this is a record for me; updating within the month. Story of my life. I was told to forget homework and do something different that is also exceedingly productive. Well, here is the result of that.

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Ch 4 Physical Therapy

The fact that I needed to pee was probably the only reason why I woke up.

If I stayed in bed, would my kidneys suffer? I opened one eye and stared beyond. Oh, gosh, even the walls were yellow; why didn't I notice that yesterday? Where was the bathroom? When I finally spotted the bathroom, I opened both my eyes, praying that with both eyes, the distance would seem less. That it was all a matter of perspective and dual vision.

It wasn't.

On legs, I assumed I could have sprinted down the hall, freshened up, grabbed some fruit, and raced out the door to my awaiting carriage. Unfortunately, I was still restricted to my throne of woe.

_Speaking of thrones_…

What seemed like eons later, I emerged from the bathroom, successfully maneuvering that tiny enclosure. I had deliberately ignored my reflection, but I couldn't help but glance at myself. Perhaps it was the broad daylight, but I had thought my skin seemed less sickly. Maybe I'd ask my mother to apply some color to my face later.

I had hardly made it past the first hall when she shocked me out of my reverie, her head peering out from the kitchen. "Susannah? Would you like to shower? Or take a bath?"

The notion of standing in steamy water was daunting. Was it possible to drown while taking a shower?

Mom must have seen the look on my face, because she quickly added, "I personally would take the bath; I bought bubbles."

Bubbles sounded fun.

I reached towards her and noticed the large bruise on my hand from last night. I did kickboxing in a past life, but I wasn't sure if I was currently up to it. Mom didn't notice it as she hauled me up. I nearly knocked over one of her prized plants which was perched on the newel post at the end of the stairs. I apologized; it wasn't the plant's fault for being in my way. Gingerly, we made our way upstairs, stopping every four steps for me to catch my breath.

"Remember the first time you entered the house? You never liked old buildings, but you just fell in love with the view and the room Andy put together for you. Do you remember your room?"

I shook my head, gasping. I felt my arms shake. Damnation, this was hard.

Mom noticed my strained breathing. She tried to feign ignorance, however, and continued. "You've got the best view in the house, Suzie. Right above the front porch. The pine tree's off to the side, so it doesn't really impede your view. You can see the entire peninsula."

Ah. So the fluttering curtain I first saw was from my room. Lovely. I could see a Febreze advertisement being shot from my bedroom.

We finally made it to the landing and my mom opened the door, mumbling something about how she should have had Brad bring up the wheelchair. Brad. Pitt? I wasn't sure. Oh right; one of my stepbrothers. My mom helped me inside and I plopped down on a four-poster bed.

I sat there, trying to catch my breath. The first thing I noticed was the lace. Then it was the utter femininity of the room. I had a moment of complete déjà vu as my eyes scanned the room. Everything seemed to be just as I suddenly remembered, yet something was missing. My eyes wandered to the bay window.

"Isn't it just a lovely view?"

I heard myself agree, but my mind was elsewhere. Something was there the first time I entered this room, something important, and it wasn't there anymore. I didn't know why, but disappointment flooded my mouth. "Yeah," I heard myself say, "It's great."

"Well, today you have to go to physical therapy. Rebuild all that former strength you had," she chortled slightly, trying to make light of the situation. I felt myself smile ruefully as I picked up the princess phone. Of course there was a dial tone, but I was just making sure the archaic thing still worked. Mom directed me into the bathroom, where I commenced my bath, bubbles and all. As I tried to scrub away the sterile scent of the hospital (though I was to return to it later that day), my mind was working overtime, trying to recall the significance of the window seat.

Window seat. Cowboys. Bay view. Boots. Something I couldn't live without?

I shrugged as I tentatively climbed out of the tub. It probably was just my overactive imagination. Mom said I had that.

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Mom wheeled me over the familiar potholes at what I learned was the Carmel hospital. She told me Carmel by the Sea was a very wealthy area, prominent for its elite and golf courses. Apparently I had even worked at one a couple years back. A golf course, I mean. Who knows, maybe I even worked at an elite as well, harhar. Perhaps it was because I was approaching the hospital instead of leaving it, but it looked more like a country club instead of _Grey's Anatomy_. Obviously Patrick Dempsey was nowhere near Carmel's hospital. Would I meet an exceedingly hot physical therapist? That would motivate me.

As immaculate as the garden was, one would think they'd maintain the streets, wretched potholes. Those were the bane of my existence. Today, there weren't seagulls like last time, but actual hummingbirds buzzing around the hibiscus. I forced my mom to stop wheeling me because I wanted to just lap up the sun. California was lovely.

Last night I was out cold before I got to see my stepdad or other stepbrothers, but apparently, they were good enough to lure my mom out of the city life. I regretted going to bed so early, but I was such the invalid. Couldn't even wish David good luck in school. As if he needed it, so I was told. After a bit, I realized that I had an appointment, and we entered the exceedingly clean hospital and proceeded to the information desk.

A woman with brown tinted glasses, Hello my name is Peggy how may I help you, peered down at me. "Where's she supposed to go?" she asked my mother.

I was affronted. Seriously, woman, I wasn't an imbecile.

My mom must have felt me stiffen. Predicting the inevitable onslaught, Mom showed Hello my name is Peggy the proper paperwork before I could verbally abuse the woman and we were directed to the proper floor.

As my mom wheeled me away, I hissed, "Did you see how she treated me?"

"Yes…like a patient."

"Why did you stop me?"

"Because that's what I would have done with Susannah Simon," she said, love gushing from her voice. Slightly content, I leaned back into my wheelchair. A smile quirked. Hell, I was sure a little tear stung my eye. Everyday I was getting better. This was good. Very good. Was it wrong to say I was proud of this small accomplishment?

I felt my mom put on the wheelchair brakes. "Suzie? I need to make a trip to the bathroom. Is that all right?"

I looked at her. She seemed to be looking better herself. I nodded and waved a hand at her. "If nature's calling, go for it, Mom." I saw that the women's room was right by where I was parked. "I'll be right here." Obviously.

"It'll be quick. Hang on for a bit." I nodded and watched my mom enter the bathroom.

When she left, I noticed just how alone and muffled this wing of the hospital was. No one was around me, and the carpet seemed to mess with the acoustics. It was a green shade with very triangular patterns on it. Potted plants lined one wall, as did mirrors.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little girl in a hospital gown several meters away. She was nearly down the hall, and tiny from this distance. Her fingers were curled into an adorable fist, and she was nibbling on the bent joint of her forefinger. Brown tresses framed her delicate and angelic face. Gosh, I wished I were that adorable.

I thought about it and realized just how bizarre it was for a girl no more than eight to be wandering around by herself in a hospital gown.

"Hey, sweetie, are you all right?" I called to her. She cast me a toothy grin, hiding her face behind her hands. She peered at me. "Meter?"

I frowned at her. "What?" She was so precious looking. She took an unsteady step towards me and I noticed something odd about her, but I couldn't place it. She came closer until she was only four meters or so away.

A look of utmost concentration marred her young face. "Mead eater."

I cocked my head to the side, puzzled. Mead eater? What on earth was that?

The girl scratched her bare arm. "I lost Snuffles. He's gone."

"I'm sorry…I don't think I know who he is. Is he your stuffed bear?"

A tear came out of each of her hazel eyes. "No. He's my puppy. I can't find him."

I reached out towards her, about to console her. Really, no girl deserves to lose her puppy; especially this girl. She looked so forlorn.

I saw my mom emerge from the bathroom. I waved to her and gestured towards the little girl. Mom's eyebrows furrowed and she looked towards the girl.

"Suzie, what are you gesturing at? The plants? Those are lovely…"

I shook my head and turned back to the girl and was about to ask her when she had lost him when she ran into one of the potted plants. She let out a gasp when the plant keeled over and hit the mirrored wall. My eyes shot to the wall, worried that some sort of damage was done. That was when I noticed what was wrong.

My mom's reflection showed that she obviously did not see the little girl knock over the plant. Indeed, it was like the little girl didn't exist. Mom's eyes looked right past her.

Eyes widened with disbelief, my eyes darted back to the little girl but she vanished.

"Suzie, did you feel an earthquake? The plant just tipped on itself!"

The girl had a reflection and everything; where did she go? Shivers made their way up my spine.

"Mom, you didn't see-"

"Oh, goodness! We need to get going." My mom grabbed the handles and pushed me forward. We finally reached a "Dr. Schmidt 152" doorplate and entered the waiting room.

Something funny was going on. The little girl was obviously lost and my mom, a very caring news anchor, didn't even say anything about it! She didn't even seem to see the girl.

My mom pushed me towards a vacant corner. "We're five minutes early." Grateful that we were on time, I reached for the closest magazine. _Good Housekeeping_. Lovely. I needed to get my mind off the abject and mysteriouschild. After perusing the pages and learning how to make the most artful table arrangements (napkin folding is key), I heard a deep voice call out, "Susannah Simon?"

I raised my head from my magazine and felt my jaw drop. Lo and behold, there, standing in front of me in scrubs was none other than the guy from my dreams.


	5. Ch 5 In the Waiting Room

Ch 5 In the Waiting Room

Ah!! You reviewers are purely psychic—I hope I'm not that predictable, =].

I was seriously upset this morning because I woke up an hour earlier than I thought (Daylight's Savings); so instead of waking up at five and getting an extra hour of sleep, I woke up at four. With an hour to spare, I decided to update. Well, we'll see if this gets up in time. (Hours later) Nope. Well, it's getting up soon…!! Goodness, I'm making updating a priority. Aren't you readers loved?

I had to get this scene perfect because it's intense.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing.

Jesse: Thanks. I had this idea in my head for the longest time, and I know I haven't updated much (haha, understatement of the year), but thanks for reading and reviewing.

I want to be Jesse's girl: *evil laugh* Gosh, I'm horrible at ending chapters, so you'll often see a cliffie. Yes, of course the gorgeous Mr. de Silva _has _to enter the scene. Suze will discover her talent…but I don't exactly say when she does, now do I? She's currently oblivious to her talent. I plan to make this story somewhat longer…since, after all, my chapters are all super short. I'm getting rather concise, aren't I? You're one of those psychic readers…your impression is correct!! Jesse's involved in the accident, but that's for me to know and you to find out. I didn't know other people have done the amnesia thing…everything gets unoriginal after a point, but I'm glad you think mine is. I feel so loved.

Blue-Eyed Chica: It's kind of scary, but that was/is my initial/current idea. The thing is…I wasn't sure if I should have him not know her and it's sort of a two way street of not-knowing. That's a road I plan(ned) on venturing down…*shrugs* you'll find out what my decision is.

saraho8: I'm glad my chapter was jaw drop-worthy. =]

Lady Clark-Weasley of Books: *cheesy smile* I'm glad you like it!! I hope I've developed as an author. Thanks, because I really wanted to know if my writing is somewhat interesting. Ahh…psychic reader. =p

TeamTHEFT: I grin cheesily (I know that's not a word) in your general direction.

Rezmutt: *Cringes* Sorry…!

Cookiesruletheworld: Honestly, hon, your comment made my day. I HATE when characters start to lose their personality. It's upsetting, and I try to do Meg Cabot justice (bows). Thank you thank you thank you for telling me that Suze is in character. =D

Orochi-kun: Thanks!! Wow, I need to update more frequently. These are my perks for the week, I swear.

LilyPSuzeSMiaM: Oooh yeah…=p

Satellite Falling: Tehe, thanks!! I strive for witticism but fail on numerous embarrassing occasions. I resent those nametags. "Hello, my name is ___, how may I help you?" And you know what? They _don't_ help. So I'm left to wander the aisles, utterly lost.

Seducing Reason: I'm sorry. It's disappointing. I know. I'm disappointing. I give you permission to send me monthly reminders of how I fail at updating.

Twiihard13: I hope this wait wasn't too long!! =]

Okay, I'm done with the shout-outs. Enjoy and review, please!

* * *

I fainted.

Not really, but in my head, I know for a fact I swooned. Yet who knew; if I were a girl of lesser substance, I was sure I'd hit the ground. Hard.

Being cooped up in a hospital, my glimpses of gorgeous men—other than on a television screen—were few and far between, if any. I'd only see a random volunteer (not the best looking) offering to get me more water, nurses coming in to adjust my nutrients, or my doctors rushing in and out. I don't know about you, but when one of the doctors scurrying into the room was balding, over the hill and showing it, fantasies of a strapping young doctor donned in only scrub pants really didn't occur.

Regardless of the lacking eye candy, that was no excuse for my reaction. My reaction to Jesse, I mean. It was just so damn startling to see such a good-looking guy that I actually gasped aloud when I saw him. I tried to convince myself that it was because I wasn't prepared to see the guy from my dreams. Because, from what I know, It wasn't everyday your dreams came true. That was just a little odd. But there he was, less than three feet in front of me. I honestly wanted to reach out and poke him just to see if he really was standing there, in scrubs, with his incredibly mesmerizing eyes boring down into my own. I felt my pulse increase to a frantic staccato. I was worried that my physical therapist would think something was wrong with me; a heart rate of 187, and she's not even running? _Pathetic._

I expected to see his beautiful mouth smiling at me, teeth just positively glowing, just like in my dreams. Instead, his mouth was downcast. It was weird, however, because in my head, I knew he frowned pensively. Frequently, in fact. He did seem the brooding, scholar type. His eyebrows were furrowed, but not in my direction, which filled me with relief. He wasn't looking at me, actually. I realized with another start that he was lookingat my mom vehemently. Almost as if she was guilty of something. She wasn't guilty of desiring to shove a magazine up a rude, certain information desk lady's—well, regardless. Wearing a tweed Donna Karan jacket and clutching her purse, my mom didn't seem guilty of anything except a fashion sense. I couldn't think of why my mother looked so uncomfortable, so I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Jesse filled the void.

"Why was I not forewarned?" he asked angrily, running a large and tan hand through his short, dark hair. The sight of that was rather appealing, tan hands running through crisp dark hair. Tan hands running through my hair. Tan hands running down my—

_Stop it, Suze._ I wasn't sure how my brain could stomach this sudden influx of mental images; it was positively disturbing.

He was angry at not being forewarned because he didn't want to see me, and I felt whatever little breakfast I ate make its way up. The rebuff hit home, like Dorothy's twister. My heart was in shambles.

Blinking back moisture, I looked away and saw my reflection again. Good God! I _was_ hideous. Emaciated, bruised, frail; what sane guy would I appeal to? Damnit all, I wasn't ready for the heartache, especially when I looked so decrepit. Despite this horrible epiphany, I resisted the urge to wheel away to the nearest locked room. I didn't want to be the girl who ran away.

It seemed like I wasn't the only one in turmoil.

Turning fully to my mother, Jesse asked, again, why he wasn't informed. You knew her appointment date. You told me to wait to see her, so that is what I patiently did. That's why I never revisited after the first few times. You said it was for the best. You promised to tell me when she was out of the hospital. I wanted to surprise her. As for today, I could have taken the day off; as an intern, I am lucky to have the privilege of shadowing Dr. Marlow, who would graciously and understandably release me. He was the one who tended to my wounds as well as Susannah's. He saw my reaction when I first saw Susannah after the accident. He realized how much she meant to me—you obviously understated my feelings.

My mother seemed abashed and fidgeted with her cufflink. His accusations hammered the stake—the name 'Beaumont' popped into my head— deeper into my brain. This dazzling Jesse knew me. He visited me in the hospital, when I looked probably even worse. He cared. He said I meant a lot to him. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. Could I blush? I brought my hand to my cheek, just to make sure. And indeed, I had color.

Finally, my mother spoke. She seemed to be mulling over her words. "I wasn't…expecting to see you today, either. After much though, Jesse, I realized it would be best if I didn't tell you Suze was home. "

"So you would have left me in the dark?" Jesse demanded, furious. Clipboard and appointment forgotten, he had his pen clutched tightly. For the first time, he looked dangerous. Like a beautiful but dangerous god. I noticed that he had a scar in the middle of one eyebrow, but it was hardly a defective trait. No, it added more to who he was. How did he get the scar? A knife fight?

"Jesse, please," my mom said, defeated, "you are the most mild-mannered and composed gentleman I know. Do not start this now. Let's discuss this once Suze gets to her appointment."

Sure, I was out of the hospital for a day, but in that silent car ride, she could have filled me in. "Your brother David is a child prodigy, your brother Brad is a Neanderthal. The other stepbrother is attending point blank and likes to eat babies for supper. They're best friends with a gorgeous guy named Jesse de Silva, which doesn't make sense, because he's so gorgeous and above them." Then again, I didn't know how close I was to my brothers, or if they were friends at all. I honestly had no idea, but I did know that my mother knew.

I pulled my mom down to my height. "Mom…why didn't you want Jesse to know I was out of the hospital? You let other people know. I mean, I don't exactly remember, but he must have been a part of my life. A friend. He could probably tell me about myself." I didn't want to admit it, but I secretly hoped that he was more than a friend. But hey—beggars can't be choosers.

The barely concealed animosity suddenly erupted. "You want to _talk _to him?" she sputtered incredulously. I backed up my wheelchair. In the name of all that was holy, why was she so angry?

"Why wouldn't I? He obviously cared enough to visit me in the hospital, didn't he?" I retorted, startled by her reaction. I crossed my arms and glared up at my mother. it didn't bother me that Jesse was standing less than three feet away. it bothered me that she was so angry with Jesse. I assumed that my relationship with my mother was more than satisfactory, but she was acting ridiculous.

Suddenly, Jesse stepped into my line of vision. He shook his head. "No, querida, please; this isn't something we should talk about right now—"

My mom laughed wryly. She must have realized that she had the upper hand. "Oh, Jesse, so now you don't want any questions answered. Especially when you know you're at fault."

Jesse entreated, "Mrs. Ackerman…do not do this when I cannot defend myself. Not yet. If anything, let Susannah be the judge. Not you."

My mom ignored him. "Susannah, you know I only want what's best for you. You've only been back for a day, and I figured it was best if I let you rest a bit. I didn't think it was best if I had you see Jesse, or anyone else for that matter, because it would make you self-conscious."

I dismissed that excuse. Bullshit. She was lying through her teeth and she knew it. She was a news reporter and used to sugar-coating things; I felt bad for prying, but I knew I had to have gotten SOME of her inquisitive genes. "Forget that. My vanity means nothing. Tell me the real reason you didn't want me to see Jesse."

"Querida, please…" I realized that I had asked the wrong question. The question Jesse didn't want me to ask. It was too late to say, "Never mind, stop calling me querida" and my mom laughed contemptuously.

"Here's why, Suze: Jesse de Silva is the reason you don't remember anything."

I felt as though something had kicked me in the gut. How I knew that sensation, I wasn't positive. But hasn't everyone been kicked in the gut? I had more urgent matters on my mind. I could actually feel the blood throbbing behind my temples…pulsating and constant. My skin felt hot and uncomfortable. How could Jesse be the reason for my current state of amnesia? Anger swelled, hot and thick within my throat. He was the reason I couldn't remember anything. He was the reason my life was so drastically altered.

No. Not Jesse. Whoever he was, I knew that he wasn't guilty.

I wouldn't believe he was guilty. But maybe I should be careful around him. Maybe he is the reason why.

Damn, I was going to do some investigating once my legs could support my weight.

I looked up to see Jesse's head lowered in disgrace, turned to the side so I wouldn't see his face. But I knew he was ashamed. "I do not know what really happened that night," he admitted. "I wish I could. Susannah, I can't look at you without feeling guilty."

"Because you are!" my mother shouted. I suddenly wondered if she, being a news reporter, knew something that the general public didn't.

This couldn't be happening. For my first day out of the hospital, this was way too much drama.

"You don't know everything that happened, Mrs. Ackerman, and neither do I. No one does. Please do not accuse me of attempted manslaughter."

My head swam. Manslaughter? Jesse accused? Dangerous he looked a moment ago, I didn't think he was capable of murder.

"What happened?" I asked heatedly. I was furious with Mom for blaming Jesse. It was irrational, this defensive stance I took against my mom. But I think I was more irate with the fact that they were discussing the accident, of which Jesse was apparently a part of, when I still had no idea what happened.

I voiced this notion, that I had no idea what happened. I knew no one knew. That was why the doctors never gave me a straight answer. But what had the police speculated? I prayed Jesse would answer my questions. Please answer my questions.

He looked at me in the eye and for the umpteenth time, I felt my heart skip a beat. Cardiac arrest, much? His eyes just pierced me like Eros' arrow. I wanted him to never look away. They were such a beautiful brown. People claimed that brown eyes were so normal. No…no, they're not. They're like warm malt in the dead of winter.

Jesse sighed heavily.

"I was told not to visit you once you woke up."

I nodded as though I knew what he was saying, but he must have seen through that.

"This is not the way I wanted us to meet again." Again, he ran his hand through his hair.

"Who are you?" I asked bluntly.

"You don't remember me at all, do you?"

I looked at him. My heart was racing. Positively racing, singing "Hallelujah" as it ran around the track. He had no idea just how badly I wanted to remember. I felt more alive than I had in days just by talking to Jesse. We must have been friends. If friends, I marveled at my former self-restraint. I felt like jumping his bones this very moment. Unfortunately, I really had no idea who the Adonis in front of me was.

"No," I admitted sadly, wishing I could leap with joy into his arms, screaming, "YES! Yes, I remember everything; take me to your castle and recite Shakespearean sonnets—hell, even Plato— to me." Why Plato, it was beyond me. But I was a girl with principles, so I decided not to completely embarrass myself. Plus, I had no idea who he really was. What sort of friendship we had. If he was truly responsible for my...state. I just shook my head.

"When you first opened your eyes, you weren't registering much. I don't think you'd remember any of the times I visited you." Though his voice implied that he knew I wouldn't remember, his eyes implored mine, begged me to remember. Some sort of miracle. I tried to conjure up a memory, but to no avail. I opened my mouth, but my mom interjected, "Jesse, now isn't the time to get reacquainted with Suze." I shot my mother a look but she continued. "I think Suze is late for her appointment."

Jesse jerked and whipped out my paperwork. "Indeed." Addressing me, he said, "My apologies, Ms. Simon, for keeping you. Typically, I am a levelheaded individual, but I was just…being dramatic."

I saw my mom nod in agreement.

"Good day," my mother said stiffly. It was an obvious cue for me to get going.

Not knowing how else to say goodbye to him, I waved . He smiled and waved back.

My mom began to push the wheelchair. As I was wheeled beyond the threshold, I looked over my shoulder at Jesse. He was standing where we left him, staring at the ground. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and he began to chew on his bottom lip. Suddenly, he sprinted towards me, professionalism aside. My spirits lifted. Pathetically. I was such an idiot. "May I see you soon, Susannah?"

My heart went aflutter again. "Apparently it's Suze," I replied ruefully. Everyone called me Suze.

He looked me in the eye. "To me, you will always be Susannah."

My breath caught. "Don't you attend my school?" He shook his head.

"No…I'm slightly older. We have much to discuss, but that's for another day. You didn't answer my question. May I visit you soon?"

Agape, I tried to say "Yes," but it came out like a croak.

He smiled at me and I was mortified. Curse it all, I sounded like a toad. It was a pity smile. He was giving me a pity smile. Like a text message I had received from someone who "cared." _Get well soon. :) from ur senior class. _I had seriously doubted an extra "y" and "o" were going to make that text anymore expensive, but I supposed it was the thought that mattered.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He glanced at his phone. "Excuse me, I'm required on the second level." With that, Jesse loped towards the elevators. Miraculously, one was waiting for him immediately after he pushed the UP arrow, and only moments later, he was gone.

I stared at the afterimage of him and sighed. I didn't know what to make of all this.

My mom interrupted my musings. "Suzie? Dr. Bray is probably waiting for you."

Three cheers for hours of therapy. Huzzah, really.


	6. Ch 6 Stroll with Me

Research was involved in the making of this chapter…I hope my information I pulled from Twilight was accurate (gosh, suddenly visions of Edward Cullen popped into my head.)

Oh yeah: disclaimer. That's me. The ideas are mine, but the characters? Not so much. Thanks, ingenious Meg Cabot.

Okay, here's my shout out to all the reviewers…it's 11:16 pm. Let's time how long it takes me! (PS: I had a ton of homework, and this is what I do instead!)

I want to be Jesse's girl: Yes, you are psychic…=p but as for your other predictions, I won't say how so…I'm glad my chapter 5 "totally rocked"—it seriously makes me SO. HAPPY to see non-oneliner reviews. Truly. Yes yes, Suze and Jesse were involved in the accident, and yes, the Sexy Dr. de Silva is just so damn amazing that he recovers faster. I tried not to make Suze's mom the enemy or anything, but she (and a ton of other people) totally think that Jesse is to blame, so they're totally "justified." I know!! Fictional hug—I think he needs one. It's been a week and a day since my last update…I hope you haven't gone mental. =]

Aparul: Hello!! =D I'm really glad I made your day, no matter how early. It was a short read, and I'm glad it was worth the extra minutes. I've noticed that the chapters in this story are exceedingly short. Is that a problem? And, heh heh, insert evil author laughter. _I know something you don't know! _=p

TeamTHEFT: I got to say, I like your penname. I'm glad you like my story and that it's not predictable. I'm trying to deviate from the norm, but it's so hard sometimes!! Thank you soo much!!

Peppermintlyle: Thanks for reviewing!! It makes me get SO excited everytime I see a review. You probably know, but I'm just letting you know, that reviews are totally motivational. The only reason I picked this up again is because people started reviewing. I'm sorry, the wait was a week and one day.

Twiihard13: I am so inclined to write Stephenie Meyer fanfiction, your name just evoked that. I hope this was a speedy update!! Omg, my story is awesome? *blushes sheepishly* Jesse and Suze will take a TON more later, trust me. They have a lot to catch up on.

Saraho8: =p even if Jesse were the bad guy, we'd all still adore him. But I'm not saying anything!! Everyone THINKS he's guilty, but is he really?

Lady Clark-Weasley of Books: Yes, Jesse visited a TON while Suze was comatose, but then, you see, Suze's mom didn't let him once she woke up. I hope I was clear…! I'm SUPER glad that the people are in character. Until I write a fic that's supposed to be out of character, they shall be in character!! (Let me know when they're not and I will for SURE fix that!) OOOOH MY GOSH I LOVE DOCTOR WHO!! In the US, we're like, behind or something, but gosh, I love Doctor Who!! Tehe… you spell "favor" like "favour"—I wish I were British!! My best friend's British and she's in love with Doctor Who and Torchwood. That must be huge in England. The project is intriguing!! Maybe I'll get to that…heh, knowing my update rate…

Seducing Reason: It will be the apocalypse if I update daily! I doubt I'm capable of that. Unless I'm strapped down in a chair. I have ALL these ideas in my head, though, for this story, and if I just SAT down, maybe I could finish this story soon…! Suspense indeed…is that my fanfic's genre? Oh, yes, there will be Paul! And he's coming back nice and strong. Shh…don't tell, but he's going to "tutor" her…sway her a bit. =p

MCFanofDolphins: aww, thanks! I know, it's hard to remember, because it's been so long! *Trying not to give anything away* Luv, moi.

Orochi-kun: thank you!! =D

Cookiesruletheworld: was it intense? Thank you!! Yes, it's taken years for me to come up with a good plot…it's almost the story's anniversary, tehe. Really thought out, thanks!! I'm glad you appreciate it! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK You! I'm glad Suze is in character, *phew*!!!!!! I'm so sorry for the cryptic ending, cookie!

Gotrice0792: thank you, my dear! =] And THANK YOU for reviewing twice. You deserve a cookie.

Juumasen; Thank you!!! I'm glad my writing left you breathless! I'm so grateful that Jesse seems like a real person. And your English is beautiful. =] I can't believe a Brazilian is reading my works! (I'm so humbled!)

Satellite falling: Tehe…thank you, hon! I'm glad the stuff I slip in is what a typical person would do. Thank you for telling me I'm building up intrigue. It really means a lot to me. =] And thank you so much for reviewing.

Blue-Eyed Chica: =] thanks, dearie! I know! Poor Jesse! I'm glad my writing evokes sympathy. Tehe…I'm not going to say anything. But the predictions are very good…=p

Anonymous: omg, hooked, you say? Thank you so much!!! =D I'm so elated. Tehe…I hope to become an author. I'll let you know when I get big. =p

Rezmutt: I hope I didn't disappoint! Suze's mom feels totally justified with her rage. She thinks Jesse is totally guilty. Being a mom/mother hen, she's doing what I know my mom would do; defend and protect her child.

Twilight Journey: Thanks!! =] I hope you like the update.

Ticklemecutie: gosh, what an awesome penname. =]

Whew, I hope that's it! It's 11:47, so that was half an hour? Enjoy the update!

* * *

Ch 6 Stroll with Me

I was told to test out my legs as often as possible. The bones had mended nicely, and the wheelchair had just been a precaution for the return journey yesterday. If I felt my legs about to give out, cling to the nearest support. Otherwise, I was golden. Free as a bird, really.

So as far as invalids went, I upgraded to version 2.0. From wheelchair, I was promoted to crutches. Yippee…

Indeed…crutches—smite me now, whatever God was up there. But praise whatever God, because I did not have to include prune juice in my diet. Decrepit I may be, but old I am not.

I suppose it was a blessing, I thought darkly as I crossed the potholed lot. Sans bumpy ride because, indeed, I could avoid the potholes on crutches. Thus, the journey to the car wasn't nearly as jarring. Plus, this was further proof that I was recuperating, right? I mean, hell, my dominate leg could nearly support all my weight.

But the car ride was jarring, and the gods of awkwardness must have laughed at my expense. I could hear their laughter as my fingers itched to do something that might have involved asphyxiation. I drummed my fingers against the door, the whole time wishing that I knew the local radio stations, because Mom was muttering to herself the entire time, various things like "I knew he was far too old" and "it's all his fault." I sincerely hoped my mother was not referring to Jesse—hah—and I tried to tune her out. Desperately. But about Jesse. The old factor, primarily. I mean, I had bigger issues and questions I had to ask him, but old? He didn't look a day over twenty…twenty-two, I was guessing. He was not older than twenty-five. But old enough to be an intern. Was twenty-two too young to be an intern? Whatever, he was twenty something. If I was wrong, I decided to give Jessica McClintock (if she was a person…I didn't know why the name was so familiar) permission to re-break both my legs.

The surprise encounter only confused me more. Who was Jesse, really? As far as he was concerned, he could have just been a random guy in my life who took me to a formal dance. Or whatever that picture was. A convention? I wondered if it was a pity date, or maybe because he didn't want to go stag.

Then again…he could have asked any girl, couldn't he?

Best friend's sister. He owed my brothers a favor.

Whatever. I had bigger things on my mind…like getting back my memory.

A migraine the size of Jupiter's Red Spot flooded my brain and I shut my eyes. Gosh, I was such a hurricane of pathos. It was pathetic. I glanced out the window and sighed, relieved that we were home.

I catapulted—or what was close to catapulting on crutches—out of the car and hobbled inside. Max greeted me with what I assumed was his trademark "between-the-legs" maneuver. I tried not to trip over him as I shut the door behind me, and cast my gaze on the stairs.

I was slightly peeved. Not because my mother was acting like a total psycho woman—well, that too—but my questions had no answers, and I grew more upset at the fact that, hell, Jesse de Whatever his last name was, screwed up my relationship with my mom.

It was going so damn swimmingly. My mom and I. Not a typical mom-daughter relationship, like the ones I saw on TV. We talked. Smiled. Maybe we weren't one hundred percent honest, but we were getting there.

Whatever. To the sound of Max's panting, I considered my options. Escape to my bedroom (four poster bed quite vacant since the Accident), or endure the wrath of my mother.

One glance at my mother confirmed my verdict as she curtly said, "Get some rest." Oasis it was.

I inched towards the stairs.

I learned this morning that they were nice stairs…sweeping stairs where a girl could really make a grand entrance. But they were, well, for lack of a better noun, stairs, and stairs were quite the challenge for a girl on crutches. Rather imposing from the ground floor, truth be told.

"Susannah?" Mom called. I was still. Noting that she had my undivided attention, that and the fact it would take me fifteen minutes to scale the stairs, she continued. "I took time off from work to accompany you to the therapist." I realized the extent of this small act. "Please understand that I love you. I've missed you so much."

I glanced over my shoulder at her. She stood there, bathed in the natural light. Her hands were folded demurely, and I felt something swell in my chest. "I know."

She nodded. "I want you to get situated in your room before I go. I really don't want to leave you alone, but I think you'd actually prefer that." I tried not to snort. "I'll have everything at your convenience. The landline is right next to the bed if that's where you're going to be situated. Andy's going to whip up a big dinner tonight, if you're up to it. I know you haven't been all that hungry…"

I smiled. "Thanks, Mom." She returned the smile, and positively glowed.

I coughed. "Um, where's…David? And Brad…and…Jake?"

My mom's smile grew even wider because I remembered my stepbrothers' names. "Oh, they're all at school, honey."

Oh. Duh.

Suddenly, she strolled across the room and hugged me. I propped my left crutch against my side and hugged her back. It was nice, this feeling inside (I silently chortled to myself)…like I wasn't a porcelain doll. I even threw in a couple of pats. So maybe Jesse de Intern didn't completely spoil my mother's good feelings toward me. This was good. Very good.

"One more thing…"

Oh. I had spoken too soon. "Yes?"

She leaned away from the hug and looked me in the eye. "Please promise me you'll stay away from Jesse de Silva, the intern from the hospital. He's a little older than you and…well, he's dangerous. Until his innocence has been confirmed, he is to me, at least."

She must have seen the questions in my eyes, but she turned away, back towards the kitchen to retrieve a water bottle and her purse.

"Mom." I had stopped her from grabbing her keys. She raised an eyebrow at me and I asked, "How did I know him? I mean, would there be a reason for me to intentionally go out of my way to avoid him?"

I saw my mother's mouth twitch, but not from restraining a smile. She was trying not to show any emotion other than mild curiosity. "Oh. He was a person you met...insignificant, really. And there isn't any reason for you to avoid him, because I gave him stern orders not to disturb you. If he does, I'll file a restraining order."

I nodded slowly, thinking, _Disturb me?? Restraining order? Wasn't that a bit extreme?_

"Bye, Suze!" she called, blew me a kiss, and shut the door behind her.

Damn. Going to him for questions was going to prove difficult.

Well, I had to make some progress in life.

As I set aside my crutches under one arm, I gripped the railing with my free hand and pulled myself up.

"One…"

* * *

I flopped onto the bed dramatically and let my exhausted head loll towards my alarm clock.

Shoot, wrong way. I turned my head the other direction. It wasn't even eleven o'clock.

Suddenly, the princess phone rang. I jumped out of my skin and fumbled for the receiver.

"Um…hello?"

"Hey, Suze!" a young voice echoed. I looked at the phone. Oh, dear God, it didn't have caller ID.

"Hey…who's this?"

"David!!"

"Oh! Hey, Doc!" A smile brightened my face. He was taking time out of his day to call me? Something tugged at my heartstrings, because the little man forgave me for yesterday. When I thought about that, my smile blossomed into a grin. "How's it going? Aren't you still in class, young man?"

"Well, I am…but I finished all my homework, and I haven't gone to lunch yet, so I asked for a pass for the 'restroom,' and I decided to call you instead!" he sounded so proud of this achievement. Being a rebel, skipping class. Was this something I would have done?

"Good job, Doc. Way to go. I feel special, honored really, and loads better, because I was getting lonely in the house and-"

"Suze, why do you keep calling me 'Doc'?"

I stopped my sentence. "'Doc?' What are you talking about, Doc?" I paused, realizing that I said 'Doc' twice. "Gee…David…I really don't know…" I thought about it. Again, the image of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves popped into my head.

"Was that some secret nickname you had for me or something?"

"Yeah…" it dawned on me. "Oh my gosh, I think you're right!!!"

"Really?" I could hear a smile in David's voice. "That's great, Suze!! That means you're regaining some memories, and you don't even realize it!"

His enthusiasm was contagious, and I felt myself get excited. "Yeah! I remember!! I think I gave a nickname to you and your brothers…all from Snow White…like, you were Doc, Brad was Dopey, and Jake was Sleepy."

David cracked up and I thought he said, "So very true." His laugh made me laugh. I found myself gasping for air and grabbing my stomach. Suddenly, a voice came from David's line. "Who's in here laughing?" the female voice demanded. "Come out at once!"

"Oh, shoot…" he muttered a silent oath sotto voce. "That's Sister Ernestine…do you remember her? She was the one always after your skirts." I laughed aloud at that, knowing he said that to make me laugh. "Not in a lesbian way…but, you know…she's a prude." In a shocked voice, I heard David wonder aloud, "Did I really just say that??"

I chortled some more. "Okay, Doc—I mean, David—don't get in too much trouble."

"Too late!" he said cheerfully. "Well, worth it, though, I got to talk to you; I'll just mention my latest experiment on _Filoviridae_ and how I'm on the precipice of a real breakthrough…the Centers for Diseases and Control will vie for my newfound knowledge. I think that'll get me out of a detention."

"David, I don't think anyone could possibly give you a detention…"

I could almost see him shrug. "Doesn't hurt to be prepared. Well…watch out for Ebola in the meantime, Suze, because it's a biosafety level four agent…and watch out for monkeys."

"Thanks, David."

"Anytime. Well, see you when I get home. I have a Lincoln-Douglas debate after school. We're discussing disenfranchisement-"

"YOUNG MAN!"

I heard David put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Give me a second, I'm trying to have a conversation!" I was shocked. Was he always like this? Another image popped into my head. David, twelve years old, turning to this very large nun and saying, "Hold on a minute, okay, Sister? I'm trying to have a conversation here." The nun tugged on David's ear, saying it was my fault.

"Hey, David, have you ever gotten your ear tugged by a nun?"

"Yeah…back when you first moved here."

The mental image continued. It was the same day. I was yelling at a girl my age, who was laughing at me. I had stepped towards her, saying something along the lines of stuffing her back into the grave she had crawled out of. But that didn't make any sense. The girl was perfectly alive.

"I plan on escaping through the window. I'm still small enough to fit. Oh! CeeCee says hi, so does Adam…umm, as does Paul. Okay, that's it. Talk to you later, Suze! Sister's about to break into the men's bathroom!" And with that, he hung up.

I hung up as well, with a smile on my face.

I think I really missed my brother.

My stomach growled, and I groaned. No, damn it, I had just gotten up the stairs…!

It rumbled again, like an avalanche. "Okay, okay…" I hoped that, in my mother's planning, she planned to feed me, because I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

And I was actually hungry.

That fact itself was unbelievable. When was the last time I was hungry?

This was a delight. I stood up and, again, was in disbelief. I healed surprisingly fast. A quick check in the mirror, a dab of Burt's Bees…I grabbed my crutches and made my way to the door, clutching the crutches and whistling the entire time.

I reached the stairs and unceremoniously allowed my crutches to slid all the way down. I hobbled behind, holding onto the railing the entire time. My mantra was _food. Food. Food_.

I succeeded in not managing to plummet down the stairs. Delighted, I turned the corner and made my way into the kitchen.

I spotted the fridge and limped over and opened it. Orange juice—I had the distinct feeling Brad's mouth had been on it—, raw chicken, eggs, and…

Nothing. Nothing a weakling like me could just whip up and or microwave and or just add water.

Really, mom, thanks for remembering the fact that your daughter might get hungry. Thanks.

How was I going to get food? I checked the pantry…maybe there was some…what was it called?-ramen noodle. Easy mac. Spaghetti? If my stepdad was a master chef, he ought to have…

Nope.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Well, I supposed that would get my mind off my stomach. Did my mom tell me to not answer the door for strangers? I thought about it. No…not really.

I went to the foot of the stairs, bent down to retrieve my crutches, and made my way to the door. Maybe it was a pizza delivery guy…ooh! I could order some Chinese takeout. Images of Brooklyn flashed through my head. Ahh…General Tsao's Chicken…or just some rice…and what was that delicious—soy sauce. Yeah. Something drowned in soy sauce.

I propped my crutches against the door, looked through the peek hole and froze with my hands on the door.

It was Jesse.

Shit, he was dangerous, wasn't that what my mom said? I backed up, determined not to open the door when I saw my crutches tip in slow motion. I tried to grab them.

Nonononoono—

WHAM. CRASH. Onomatopoeia.

"Hello? Is anyone home?"

Don't say anything. Don't say anything.

"Susannah?"

I paused, foot midair. His tone beseeched me.

I slowly made my way to the door and peered through the peek hole again, noticing for the first time that he was holding a bag of Tollhouse cookies, Lindt chocolate, and another bag that looked suspiciously like more food. My mouth watered at the sight of food and the gorgeous man on my porch. But I bit my tongue. He stood there patiently, staring at the door. After another few seconds, he turned around and made his way down the sidewalk.

Was that my only meal? I thought about what my mother told me, but then I thought about his words at the hospital. Then I thought about my dream, and the picture in the hall.

Without another thought, I swung open the door. I was hungry, damn it.

"Hey," I called.

He turned around quickly, and his face broke into a wide smile of relief. "Hello, _querida_."

It took my breath away, same as ever.

"Would you like to go on a walk with me?" I blurted.

He raised a scarred eyebrow at me. "Have you eaten?"

"No," I admitted, "but I need to get out of there. I'm going stir crazy."

He nodded. "Should I put the food in my car for later, then?"

I thought about my stomach and its sudden not-hungriness. Was my appetite sated at the sight of him? I laughed in my head. _So…whipped…_

"I'm not hungry right now, but in a bit, I'm sure I will be."

"That's fine. I wasn't sure if you were hungry or not, but I figured, since your mother wasn't home, and you being on crutches, the sentiment would be appreciated."

I grabbed a key off a table by the door and shut the door behind me. "Oh, believe me," we began walking down my street, me on crutches, "the sentiment is greatly appreciated. You saved my life. I was on a dismal path to starvation."

This elicited a laugh from him, and I had the urge to make him laugh more often. It was a pleasant sound, and watching him throw back his head with a smile was gratifying.

"You know…I don't exactly know if I've ever walked down my street."

"Indeed?" It was only the sound of my crutches against the ground and Jesse walking. It was a slightly breezy day in March. The sun was shining, but we both had on zip-up jackets. Jesse's hands were in his pockets, and beneath his hoodie, I could see he still had his uniform on. We were walking at a comfortable pace, a comfortable distance away from each other.

"Did you just get off of work?"

"That isn't work for me actually…I really don't get paid. I go to work in another hour and a half."

"Oh…I hope I'm not making you go out of your way…" I felt a bruise under my left armpit and shifted my crutch.

"No…I plan on staying with you until you finished eating."

"Making sure I'm not anorexic?" I teased. Jesse flashed me another grin.

"Of course, _querida_…I always have to watch out for you wellbeing. And speaking of your wellbeing…"

Jesse stopped walking and turned towards me. "I think you're in pain."

Damn. It was nice, breathing the fresh air, walking with Jesse. I was worried if we stopped walking, he'd drop me off at home and leave. But the crutches were pressing on my bruises.

"No, I'm not," I lied.

Jesse looked down at me. "Susannah. Every step we have taken, you have been grimacing. Your crutches are causing you discomfort."

"Oh…you are observant…" I said sarcastically.

Jesse smiled. "I would hope, since I plan on being a doctor."

"You'd make a fine doctor." I glanced back wistfully at his car parked in the driveway, less than ten yards away. My eyes lowered to my crutches.

"Perhaps. But now…I'm going to get you to the front of your house—" _Please don't leave me _"—and we can continue our day in my car."

I blinked. Wait, what?

"What?"

He looked me in the eye. "Unless, of course, you don't want me to join you."

_Would I ever _want _you to!_

"Yes, I'd love to continue our day together." I sped up on my crutches, but I felt Jesse tug on my sweater. My heartbeat went erratic.

"Susannah, don't get carried away. We'll make it in due time. Trust me." _Oh…how I did._

I grinned sheepishly. "Guess I got excited."

Jesse chuckled, a sound that rumbled in his throat. If situations were different, and I wasn't hyperventilating at the thought of him touching me, he would probably have patted my head. But I wasn't Max, the family dog, or anything else head-pat-worthy-able, if that made any sense.

"Susannah…it makes my heart sing, to see you so vibrant again."

I tried not to take that in any other way, but it was hard not to.


	7. Ch 7 Drive

Ch 7 Drive

A/N: Okay, here's the long awaited Ch 7: my school has the threat of a Snow Day, so I've been editing away. I hope you guys are satisfied with this. I'm sorry that it's mostly dialogue, but it's the only way I can properly introduce Alive Jesse's life. I try to adhere to the books and keep it realistic. I think this is the longest chapter so far…yeah. It's the longest. Again, hope you guys enjoy it!

Oh. And if I don't update before Christmas, Happy Holidays!!

Disclaimer: This is a by-product of Mrs. Cabot. These characters are hers. I can only wish they were my own.

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To my fabulous reviewers: THANK YOU!

Blue-Eyed Chica: You can theorize, but that doesn't mean I'll tell you if you're right! =p Thanks for being patient and reading this fanfic. He doesn't seem injured, but keep in mind Suze has been in the hospital for a long time. If he were injured, he'd probably be healed…but since it was sooner, obviously, he didn't get as totaled. *cringe* And he is the scapegoat. Unfortunately.

Lady Clark-Weasley of Books: I know!! I love Doc—I mean, David. =] It always made me smile whenever Suze let that slip up, so I'm having the amnesic Suze do that as well. Bits of her are returning, after all. Thanks for the praise. =] It's motivated a scene between Andy and Suze. I'm incredibly sorry that at the moment, I can't do your challenge, but when I can, I will. Glad you think of me so highly…*squeal* =D

Satellite Falling: =D Thanks!! I'm glad that you like how everything is coming to her slowly. Various things trigger memories. =] tehe. I hope I'm slightly funny: you see…sometimes, I'll crack a pun/joke that's intended for laughter, but it fails epically. *shrug* Not a comedian, that's for sure! Hate to disappoint, but this chapter has less giggles. =/ *please don't beat me* Glad you're hooked, though!

Cookiesruletheworld: =D I'm glad you liked the quote. It's one of the huge things in my life; seriously, I could NOT go anorexic because I love food too much. Or vegetarian. Though I do love animals. *sigh* Tollhouse cookies are GREAT: I went to the mall and bought three…those are what motivated me to put them in this story, tehe. I think you'll enjoy the start of this chapter. I promise I'll introduce Jake and Brad…expect awkwardness you can chortle at. I 3 Doc. He's a cutie. =] I hate to tell you that you won't find out what EXACTLY happened in the Accident until later. Maybe not MUCH later. I'm sorry that it's been a while since my last update, but hey—this year has been a record.

I want to be Jesse's girl: Um, dearie, of COURSE Suze is falling for Jesse again—who can resist?? =p It is there, subconsciously, and you'll see how it blossoms!! *Corny line. Sorry.* And Oh. My. Gosh. I think the only men I do love are fictional. Mr. Darcy. Jesse de Silva. Aladdin. Edward Cullen. Etc. The list goes on, and it's pathetic. We should start an organization: We Who Love Fictional Characters…WWLFC. Yeah…Jesse is pretty much at blame…huge suspect in the case. Suze doesn't know the gravity of the situation. Suze's mom, though she loved him before, is totally anti-Jesse. But really, she's a mom—who can blame her? I know. Jesse wouldn't ever harm Suze. *Rofl…rolling on the floor laughing* My heart sings for you, Jesse!!!! Nope. I tried to make my story fit into Mrs. Cabot's storyline. So Jesse is only an intern. Later, you'll learn the whole shebang. =D *Cheer for Doc and his rebellion* I hope it reminded you of Shadowland!! It's not out of character, which makes me happy. Because I'm trying to keep them in character. =] I hope this update wasn't too late. I'm seriously so sheepish right now, but secretly super pleased that you like my story so much!! I'm an aspiring writer, and stuff like that can seriously do something to one's self-confidence. Thanks for the booster-shot, =D. I know…of Cabot's teen flicks, I only truly like the Mediator series. Some of her adult books have good plots, but it's typically the same deal. I plan on being published. Hopefully. Fingers crossed. And truth be told, I absolutely adore long reviews. They make updating worthwhile. =D

rezmutt: this chapter's full of Jesse. =D Sorry. No answers about the Accident, but indeed, Suze is remembering!! I hope my storyline isn't too tragic. =]

Peppermintlyle: I hope this update is to your liking. I'm seriously sorry that it wasn't up sooner, but I've been revamping it so many times…!

caitlinx25: Tehe. Jesse de Intern: we need one of those…*sighs wistfully*

Aparul: I love rhymes. They're so grand. I'm sorry for keeping you up late, but I seriously appreciate the review. If I could, I'd ship you cookies. =] I'm glad the chapters aren't too choppy and not terribly long. My other fanfic had like, chapters that were eighteen pages in Word. And I don't even think that's the longest chapter. But my other fanfiction seriously needs some major revisal, so don't read it! Being an author, it's sort of cruel knowing things that I know you don't know. But you shall, soon. I'm glad I categorized this story in Romance/Suspense…because the genres are actually accurate! 2008-11-19 . chapter 6

Anonymous: *smiles cheesily* Omg, you think it's cute?? That seriously made my night perfect.

orochi-kun: I'm glad you like it. =] OOOH, NIGHTWISH!! I haven't listened to them in AGES!!!!! I'm sorry everyone around you was being loud and obnoxious. I was at the local library and ugh, I wanted to rip the cell phone out of this girl—who was already reprimanded for using a cell phone—and chuck it into the snow. But that's not mean. And I'm not a violent person. =]

I want to be Jesse's girl: Thank you so exceedingly much for being so sympathetic and understanding. I have an idea of where this story is going, but it takes forever to come up with what goes on between what I have written and the conclusion. It's not filler; it's development, which can be so. Hard!! Thank you, seriously, for reading my fanfiction. It makes me so happy. And no problem about the whole rereading the series and researching! I'm trying to keep the characters in check. I know…it seems like I've read this series a bazillion times. Tehe…if I have any questions, I'll just ask you. The Mediator series is so underplayed. It deserves more recognition. The Twilight series is pretty decent; I enjoy reading it. But I totally agree with you; Suze kicks Bella's asymptote. And all you have to do is replace ghosts for vampires, yeah. I was a little disappointed with the movie, but that's totally natural, because NOTHING can EVER compare to the books. Except Lord of the Rings…those were GREAT adaptations. I was such a LotR buff at one point, tehe. And YEAH!! The Mediator movie? Good GOD it better be good and the characters BETTER look like themselves because Hollywood does stink at keeping to the plot. Honestly?????? You're ALREADY COPYING THE PLOT. WHY CAN'T YOU JUST USE THE BOOK INSTEAD OF MAKING UP YOUR OWN DARN SCREENPLAY? And if people TRULY love the series, they'll love all 4 hours of it. And no one, NO one, can ever play Jesse. *sigh, I ranted too, but it's healthy* Hendrix and I had a splendid evening…and now I'm moving on to more unsuspecting artists. _

Devil's Power: Thank you so much for reviewing. And I hope this update is good enough.

Rezmutt: I absolutely hate author notes as well, but I'm being a hypocrite. I wanted to tell you guys that I was hard at work. You were not forgotten. I'm sorry for the wait. =[ blame my homework load.

iFo0l: perhaps. Ghost related, yes. And thank you SO much for the praise. Enjoy the update!!

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Ch 7 Drive

It was official. Henceforth, Tollhouse chocolate cookies with white chocolate chips were my absolute favorite cookie. It was, after all, the inverted chocolate chip cookie.

It was warm.

It was succulent.

It was perfect.

I shut my eyes and prayed that the expression on my face wasn't too orgasmic. Because that would be depressing, if not embarrassing, considering that Jesse, unbeknownst to himself the epitome of male virility, was sitting right next to me. And here I was, having a…well…_that_.

Taste buds curling with ebullience and ecstasy, I opened my eyes and watched the empty house at 99 Pine Crest Drive, my Victorian-looking prison complete with turrets and all, through the mirror. The words "OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR" was embossed on the bottom of the mirror as we made our merry way down the lane. I had to hand it to my mom and Andy; our home was pretty damn impressive-looking compared to all the other houses. Blue and white and cream, widow's walk included…landscape positively erupting with huge pine trees and flowering shrubs. Something clicked in the back of my mind, and I could have sworn I had trepidations when I first entered this house. It was unfathomable; why the hell would I be afraid to step inside when it was just so _tasteful_?

Well, whatever, I'm an amnesiac. So shoot me.

I turned my head away from the window. I couldn't get over the fact that I was sitting in a car alone with this fine gentleman my mother seemed so against. If anything, he was so the type I could bring home and introduce to the family. But whatever. I was totally defying her wishes. My mom's wishes, I mean. But this. This was a good reason to disobey my mother. The fact that he seemed to have been an important part of my life or whatnot. Plus he was just so…

Easy on the eyes was an understatement. My eyes wandered to his profile, and I resisted the urge to say, "Yum." Because that's what he was. Yum. A personified confection I wanted to savor. But he wasn't a confection, nor was he mine.

Then again, I really have no memory of my past love lives. If any. After later researching my past life, I discovered I really wasn't a socialite or part of the Brooklyn fete…ergo, I was a little afraid to inspect my Carmel self.

Thank God I wasn't aphasic; I don't think I could handle the whole shebang.

My thoughts drifted back to the present and into the car, where I noticed a scar on the eyebrow facing me—the result of a knife fight? I couldn't deny the fact that he looked dangerous. Handsome, yes, but dangerous too. With a face and a body like that, and with eyes like those, he could have every girl on the continental US swooning, as well as their pursuing ax-wielding boyfriends.

I told myself to stop gawking. Really, it was so obvious. And from what I remembered, staring was considered rude, even if you wanted to jab your thumbs into the perpetrator's eyes. But I wasn't a violent person, was I.

I had a hunch that that was a total lie, but I repressed the notion. Me, fight? Puh-lease. I wouldn't harm a rapist.

…Wait…on second thought, I'd probably drop kick them all and deport them to Siberia if I had the strength. Maybe a few cans of Monster would do the trick.

What the hell, I was having conversations in my head. They had shrinks for this sort of stuff.

I noticed Jesse was incredibly clean-shaven. And he smelled of something delicious, I couldn't put my finger on it. But of course he wasn't as fixated on me as I was on him. And I had a horrible feeling that I'd sacrifice life and limb for this guy. Or that I already had.

"Enjoying your cookie, Susannah? You seem to be, ah, rather _enjoying_ it."

I shot him what I later figured was my oh-my-Jesus-I-want-to-curl-up-into-a-ball-and-roll-down-Mount-Everest-until-I-hit-the-Tibetan-border look. He probably thought I was a complete nincompoop, if not a nymphomaniac. My cheeks responded embarrassingly. As if of their own volition, they just started _burning _like a California wildfire. Really, absolutely blazing, completely overreacting. It was uncalled for, so in a last-ditch effect, I tried preserving my dignity.

"Ha, ha…you're a riot."

I know. Operation Preservation of Dignity epically failed like a bad lit-to-film. I wanted to smack him. I really did. Or kiss him. Which was worse. Because he didn't even think of me like that.

After passing a few terra-cotta homes, Jesse, liquid eyes thoughtful, turned off my street and mused as I tried to stifle my overactive cheeks. "Perhaps," he wondered, "I have a chance to make it big as a comedian, if medicine fails." I never realized it before, but his English was as unaccented as my own. Shocking, considering that he looked so Spaniard.

I stuck out my tongue, grateful that we switched topics. "Stop gloating, you'd only make it on YouTube."

Nonchalant, I stretched out my sore limbs. The physical therapist, sadists that they were, wanted me to lift weights in the next session. Pricks. I was in pain as it was…didn't need another cause. I could actually feel gravity holding me down to earth, and it seemed to be pulling unusually hard on my arms and legs. Maybe it'd suck me into a shallow grave. Except David would have something to say about that. Gravity is constant. It doesn't intentionally target your limbs to further induce pain, Suze. Or pull aching individuals into the ground. And that's not even feasible.

Hah.

Gravity's a sadist, working in cahoots with my physical therapist and the Devil.

Jesse looked at me, a fervent look on his face. "You remember what YouTube is?" I felt my heart sink; his too-eager eyes thought I had actually remembered YouTube pre-Accident.

I said lightly, "Just because I was incapacitated and maimed, quarantined and ignored, doesn't mean I was denied the internet." After all, laptops and gurneys are portable. And if I were a more rebellious patient, I'd use the receptionists' computers.

My statement was meant to be sardonic, but Jesse failed to register my dry humor. Rather, he looked more chagrined than the occasion warranted. "I'm sorry. That was callous and egregious." His voice faded. I paused, waiting for him to laugh and say, "Ha! Fooled you." But he didn't.

I didn't want to ruin the lighthearted mood by discussing the Accident, for fear that he'd bring up his own guilt. "No! Don't be! I've been on a laptop recently, that's all I was trying to say…" not like it was your fault. Because he couldn't have been guilty, albeit everyone was blaming him. I would have to search online for any newspaper article about the Accident, because I wish I could at least know what everyone else knew. I realized then that I had nearly forgotten why I was disobeying my mother in the first place. I had to get back on track. Jesse must know.

This agent had a mission, clichés be damned.

"It's a perfectly logical question; I shouldn't have been so crass."

He still had wounded eyes.

Um. "Just shower me with cookies and—" I peered into the untouched bag and felt my stomach rumble. "—fettuccine alfredo."

He smiled ruefully and I breathed a sigh of relief I didn't even know I was holding. "I'll keep that in mind. Anything else?" His words, slightly husky, had a double meaning. I knew it. I turned my eyes to the passing scenery and noticed how we flew down an intersection. Huh. _Could have sworn I biked down this street at night_, I thought as I twirled the plastic fork.

"Um. So this might sound weird, but keep in mind, I'm amnesic—"

"How could I forget?" he murmured.

I looked at him. "Hey…nothing too nostalgic."

He gave me a wry grin. "If Susannah the Great declares it. I hope you don't use the amnesic thing as an excuse for everything now."

"Ha. Ha." We both chortled.

"How well did I know you?"

He eyed me warily, as if gauging—rather, predicting—my reaction to his next words. I kept my face smooth… you know, in a hiding-my-infatuation sort of way. It was the only way I could function around him. "Very well, actually. You knew all my secrets."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning mild interested. Huh. To think I knew what was behind those inscrutable eyes. "Um, all your secrets?"

He thought about it, lips pressed together. A smile lightened his eyes. "Well, excluding a few minor details."

"Would you like me to ever know those?" I teased.

"I'm sure you will. But let's proceed with the basics. We have very limited time." I glanced at the car's clock. He was right. Time was short. I had forgotten that he needed to work. I stabbed the fettuccine and brought the pasta to my mouth. "What do you want to know?" he asked in a particularly friendly tone.

No pointless questions. I chewed. It was delicious. Surviving on intravenous drip seemed a fate worse than death. "How do I know you?"

His eyes were enigmatic, par usual. I could have been another of the hoi polloi. Deadpan, he asked, "You think I'm one of Jake's or Brad's friends?"

I nodded. He was psychic. I was expecting an enthused, "Oh yeah, we're tight," or a passionate, "No, Susannah, celestial moon in my bleak night sky, they're only my friends because I was trying to get closer to you."

No. He didn't have at all the reactions I envisioned, though frankly, the latter was slightly fantastical on my part. Damnit all. But a girl can dream.

Instead, shoulders shaking, he started laughing. Actually laughing. I didn't think my insinuation was that far from the mark, so I didn't see what was so hilarious. But I wanted him to laugh forever, even if I didn't see what was so funny, because it was such a lovely tenor sound. He tried restraining himself, but that failed and he erupted into even more peals. A flash of pearly whites greeted my eyes when he threw his head back. He had nice teeth. I wondered if he invested thousands in oral hygiene. I wanted to laugh with him, but the awful truth was I hadn't seen my brothers since I got home, so I really didn't know what was so funny. Perhaps I ought to have been offended, but in retrospect, I probably knew in my heart of hearts that Sleepy and Dope—I mean, Jake and Brad, weren't chummy with me. Or the other way around. "Susannah, if you remembered the party they had in the summer of your junior year, you'd understand why I didn't befriend them first…imbeciles that they were…" he wiped at his eyes.

"Are they…nice brothers?" I asked meekly.

Jesse tried not to snort. "You are fond of them in a, ah, typical brotherly fashion. I shouldn't influence you, though. Doc, I mean, David, is truly your favorite."

I knew that. Even without him telling me, I knew. Heck, Doc risked life and limb to call me with Sister Stick-Up-My-Anus breathing down his neck.

What a sweetie. I decided that when he got back from school, I'd give him a monstrous hug. Talk to him for a few hours. See what was his latest experiment, since he seemed the type to tinker around with graduated cylinders and test tubes. I wondered if he ever tested on the hybrid Ursidae-like dog at home.

The cogs in my head turned as I mulled over Jesse's slip-up. Doc. He called David Doc.

So we were close. Closer than just mutual acquaintances. Unless other people called David Doc. I would have to ask Doc when he got home.

"Forgive me, Susannah, for laughing; that was uncalled for."

I shot him a glance as I swallowed the last of the fettuccine. I put the Styrofoam plate and the fork back into the bag. Beyond his head were palm trees. We seemed to be in the village part of Carmel. Carmel-by-the-Sea? I wasn't positive, but I saw picturesque cottages. It was weird what I remembered. Why couldn't I remember this gentleman extraordinaire? "You're uncannily polite, I've noticed."

Jesse stopped at a four-way intersection, allowing tourists, cameras and all, to cross the street. There were no stoplights. Fascinating…

"Is there something wrong with that?" he inquired gently and tilted his head towards me.

I shrugged, noticing that I needed lotion on my hands. I hid them beneath my bony thighs. Ugh. I needed to eat more. I stared at my legs. "I don't know…it's such a rarity. While I was in the hospital, not many people were polite unless I was paying them, and the receptionist at the hospital today was far from. It's sadly uncommon. But the weird thing about it is," I crossed my fingers and hoped I wouldn't regret saying what I noticed about him, "you don't seem like you're part of this generation." Before he could sneer at my observation, I let out a bark of laughter. "Wow, how weird does that sound?"

There was a pregnant pause. Crap, he thought I was a lunatic. He would have me deported back to New York and committed to Bellevue.

Shockingly, he did not have me evacuate his vehicle. "Not too far off the mark, actually," I heard him murmur as he turned the car. "You seem to be remembering more than everyone gives you credit."

Amazed, I internally beamed. From his lips, those words were worth every diamond in the world. At least, to me, besotted as I was.

No! Not besotted. I've known this guy for less than twenty-four hours, creep.

Conversation stilled for a moment.

"Is it still infinite questions?" he teased. I tried not to smile but failed miserably.

"Yes…hold your horses, it's not like you're the one with memory loss. Having issues coming up with questions."

"Touché…but perhaps the real question, Susannah, is one you should ask yourself; what do you remember?"

I tilted my head towards him. His eyes were intelligent and warm. They prompted me to think. "About the Accident?" _Gosh, his lips looked so sensual…_ _Every follicle on my skin was aware of his presence. He was so warm, so _alive_. _

"No," he dismissively waved his hand. "About your life."

I never considered that, asking questions about myself and seeing if I knew the answers.

I frowned and cleared my head. "Ask me something."

Jesse pondered for a few seconds. "Your name and age," he said with a crooked smile.

"That's easy, Susannah Simon, seventeen going on eighteen, senior at Junipero Serra Mission Academy."

"Who are your friends?"

My eyes were now fixed on the blinking brake light in front of us. "An…albino. Her name was…two consonants. Her boyfriend or something…" My eyebrows puckered. _Friends. _"Gina back in Brooklyn. Ha! I remember Gina. Um. Geez, random faces floating around in my brain…" exasperated, I flung out my hands. "Jesse, there are so many questions to ask, and random things I remember: like, I took French back in Brooklyn, my hometown. My dad died when I was, like, what, six or something. My mom remarried Andy, who has three kids. I moved here in the middle of sophomore year after Christmastime…random bits of information. It's impossible to remember everything!"

"Susannah," Jesse asked me sternly, "why are you defeated? Nothing ever deterred you. Your mind is not your enemy. I won't allow it. No, _querida_, you're going to remember everything." He breathed deeply. "Do you remember anything about California? About any special abilities? Your father?"

"Special abilities?" I asked.

Jesse bit his lip.

"_Querida_, so you don't remember anything about…" I could almost hear him backtrack as he muttered something in Spanish. He continued with, "how you met me?"

I gazed at him, concentrating. Why did my heart rejoice at the word _querida_? It was foreign, obviously. Did I take Spanish in California, since the Latino ratio was so much higher here? I made a mental note to check my schedule…wherever it was. It was March, so college applications were in. I suppose that was one less worry.

_How I met Jesse de Silva. How I met Jesse de Silva. How DID I meet Jesse de Silva?_

I couldn't do it. All I remembered was a view of the ocean from a window.

"Please don't hate me, but for the moment, I can't." Frustration welled up behind my eyes and I blinked. How the hell did I meet him?

"No, Susannah, don't fret—you will remember soon."

"How do you know that??" I demanded, alarmed at how my voice choked up.

He opened his mouth, but I interrupted him. "No, no…I'm sorry. All of this is getting to me," I admitted. "Let's continue infinite questions. But for now, my turn. To give my brain a break."

Jesse nodded.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

So he graduated high school three years ago, and he was already an intern?

"You were an intern at the hospital…and you're in college?"

Jesse gripped the steering wheel, and I watched the sinewy tendons in his arms tighten.

"Yes, I'm an intern, but that was through sheer dedication and self-studying." He paused, as if mentally debating whether he should share more information. "This fall was my first term at a university. I've been taking…quite a few classes to compensate for lost years. Studying and working is all I seem to do," he remarked dryly.

I shot him an incredulous look as I fiddled with the upholstery. He started college not even a year ago, since it was March. "Lost years?" He was smart; that was obvious, so why did he start college in his twenties? What, was he some slacker or something? But that didn't explain why he was pursuing medicine, since it takes dedication, something he doesn't lack. Why was he was an intern if he didn't start, let alone complete, his undergrads. Was he in some accelerated program? Did he have to take the MCAT, that medical admission test in order to intern? If so, he would be in graduate school. And he wasn't, since he just started college this fall. It didn't make sense. If he started so late, why was he so ahead?

I had so many questions, yet I could tell something was paining Jesse. He wasn't telling me everything, and I wasn't sure if he was lying or not. He had no reason to lie if I knew all this beforehand. Why would he withhold information?

"You can't cram four years worth of undergraduate classes into seven months," I said blatantly.

He looked at me but quickly focused his eyes back on the road. Perhaps he had a destination in mind, but I honestly cared less. I had questions.

"Indeed…I never said I was. I took several AP classes during the summer and tested out of various other courses I had prior knowledge of. By doing this, I earned quite a few credits: statistics I had learned in my spare time…I took a class for calculus…some tutorials for English language and composition, literature and composition…I naturally mastered the Spanish subject test…earning these credits helped me now, because instead of four years, at this rate, I might finish undergrads in two and a half, and then test into medical school by age twenty-three."

"That doesn't explain the interning."

"Not many undergrads intern, true. But I'm interning because I was recommended by a good friend. It's more of volunteer work right now…but my classes at school are medical-oriented, thus, I've been honing my skills. I'm still behind, since I unfortunately started late…" his voice trailed off, and I felt my eyebrows nearly touch my hairline. Holy cow. Through his entire speech, he seemed embarrassed of his innumerable achievements.

He was brilliant.

"That's a lot of self-initiation," I stated. He merely shrugged, his cheeks coloring. He was modest; it was refreshing and delightful. I felt my heart swell with pity for this man forced to work so hard to achieve his dreams.

"I had to learn to be incredibly self-reliant. I had no penny to my name, _querida_, and I needed money for college. So Father Dominic, your 'principal' at the Mission, was so gracious as to lend me his many services. He helped me obtain the numerous side jobs so I could afford college." His eyebrows narrowed as he tried to count his numerous occupations. I felt my heart reach out to this person. He had so much purpose in life… "He helped me find my first job at the Historical Society Museum. I still work there occasionally when time permits. Your stepfather hired me for menial handiwork around your house and various locations. I worked for Andy for quite some time, actually… professors and lab partners tell me that I'm good with my hands, steady as they are in delicate procedures, and one of the surgeons at the hospital is paying me to help renovate his home…putting up all the drywall—that's my latest assignment. I am actually going there after I take you home." He shook his head. "I am not nearly hardworking enough as they give me credit for…"

I tried to change the subject to lighter subjects. "You are so focused on becoming a doctor. Medical school is exceedingly expensive, hence the side jobs…yet you never mention family. What happened to your parents? Why didn't they leave money for you?"

Jesse stared straight ahead. His grip, if it was possible, got tighter; if the steering wheel were personified, I'd fret about asphyxiation. Voice thick, he said patiently, "They passed years ago."

I felt my heart plummet, as I was completely dumbfounded. _Shit_. What the hell do you say to that? My heart empathized with him. I wanted to pat his back. I wanted to hug him. But instead of being a normal person, a funny thing happened. I started crying. Not bawling, heavens, my dignity had already suffered enough, but my eyes welled up and there was this prickly sensation in my nose. Was idiocy a result of concussions? I'd have to Google that. I felt like an utter fool.

I bit my lip. "Gosh, I feel like such a jackass," I said in this really gross voice. Hell, I even grossed myself out. Never mind what Jesse thought, it was beyond repair. I bet you've never ruined your chances with a guy as badly as I just did.

Jesse jolted, and he nearly jerked the car beyond the meridian. A fancy-looking coupe honked at us and blared past. Jesse ignored the car. Instead he looked at me, eyes wide with utmost shock. "Susannah, you're crying—!" he was driving, but I could have sworn he wanted to, I don't know, console me for the heinous thing I said. _Me_. Him console _me_. I started crying harder. _What the hell was my problem? Why was he so damn _nice?

"No, really, I feel like the biggest dumb ass on the face of the planet." I hid my face in my hands, wetting my hands with shameful tears. "I'm such a dolt. I can't fathom just how inconsiderate that was and I'm _so sorry._"

"Susannah."

A torrent of word diarrhea emitted from my lips. "Had I known, I would have the decency not to bring up such a topic. That's totally inexcusable."

"Susannah," he said again.

"I was being thoughtless and just…just a _total dumb ass—_"

"Susannah!!" That got my attention. "Susannah… you are NOT being a dumb…dumb-"

"Dumb ass."

"Susannah." He gave me a hard look.

"Sorry." I sniffed. He was going to make me get out of his car. I would be forced to endure the embarrassing trek home, forever guilty of bringing up—

With a heavy sigh, Jesse turned into the nearest entry, which happened to be a Krispy Kreme. Inside the car was silent as he searched for a parking space. After parking perfectly in the center, he shut off the engine and turned towards me.

I wiped my eyes and waited, bracing myself. _Thank God I wore waterproof mascara._

"_Nombre de Dios_, Susannah." He raked a hand through his dark hair. "Please do not ever call yourself that!"

"A dumb ass?"

"Susannah."

"Sorry."

"You are far from that, rest assure, _querida_. It was an honest mistake, one you should not regret; you had no idea. How could you when you cannot remember things? They've been deceased for…ages." He looked me in the eyes, seeing if I registered this information. It was news to me. My eyes were drying. "I am quite all right with their deaths, as with the rest of my family. In fact, I've even made amends with my past." He shot a glance in my direction again and his eyes looked alarmed. I guess my face still was of utmost guilt, because he sighed, reached out a tan hand, and with a slight pause, rested it on my upper arm. His warmth reached my uneasy countenance and I relaxed. Not completely. "Trust me, _querida_, it is quite all right."

Unsure of what to do, suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me.

Jesse de Silva was _hugging _me. Actually _holding _me in his arms.

My heartbeat grew incessant and fast.

I felt my lips slowly shape into a bow. He forgave me.

But as unexpected as the hug was, it was just as fleeting. He released me and backed away quickly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No, no, it's fine!" Believe me.

Since my tears were gone, Jesse smiled and scanned the backseat. Suddenly, he said something in Spanish that did not sound too friendly.

"Susannah, is there a black duffel bag in the backseat?"

I craned my neck to check. Among the spotless backseat, there was no duffel.

I told him this, and I heard him mutter Spanish again.

"Why? What's in the duffel?"

I felt my heart race. Was he going to bind and gag me? No. He wouldn't do that. Nonetheless, my felt my nerves stand on end.

"I'm such a foolish person. I suppose I was more absentminded than I thought…" he looked at me. "You noticed earlier that I'm still in my hospital attire. In the duffel were my extra changing clothes and some spare tools."

"What's the problem?"

"My apologies, Susannah, I had planned on taking you to the beach for some fresh air, dropping you off at home, and then going promptly to work, but because of my idiocy, I'm going to have to take you home immediately so then I can grab my duffel from home."

"Why can't I come with you?" I asked.

He looked shocked at the very notion. "It isn't proper! And I do not plan on wasting your precious time."

I tried not to giggle. Really, he sounded like he came straight out of some historical romance novel.

"Jesse…you won't be wasting my time. I enjoy your company." He didn't budge. "It's efficient, and the least I can do for you since you paid for my lunch."

No cigar. I needed to say something else. "Plus, I'd be home alone, and I'd rather be with someone…in case something happens…" I let the sentence trail off. Hopefully he had an overactive imagination.

He must have sworn in Spanish as his eyes slid to my own. "Oh, you exasperate me sometimes with your ease at swaying my will…!" he sighed in defeat and I inwardly laughed. "Would it be too forward to ask if we can swing by my…place?" his eyes were dark and I couldn't tell why it seemed so hard to use the phrasing "place."

"Of course, Mr. de Silva."

A quick smile crossed his perfect features. "So that is a yes? You have no issue with an extra half hour of my company?"

"Jesse…you're ridiculous."

Who could refuse?

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it.

* * *


	8. Ch 8 Reminiscing

Ch 8 Supper Reminiscing

(Note the date) **March 9**: So I'm supposed to be relaxing right now because I'm taking this American standardized test tomorrow…. And by relaxing, I decided to look up prospective Jesses. My expectations were little to nothing, but Holy COW. I found this gorgeous model, and he is phe-NOMENAL…! Maybe I'll post a link or something…but this guy seriously is something special.

And this new 2007 Word is…interesting…very bubbly. Maybe that's just me.

Thanks to my awesome reviewers!! You guys seriously rock.

**April 15, 2009** (um…yeah, about that…)

Okay…soo…I scrapped this chapter and redid it. And I'm much happier with it. Sorry for the wait. I'm on spring break right now, and instead of hitting the beaches (hah, funny in Michigan…and with its economy…) I decided to update. Mind you, I could be watching foreign films (_Amelie…Cinema Paradiso…La Vita e Bella…_), reading, studying for my exams, cleaning, working on my research…but I'm updating instead.

I actually Google mapped Jesse's "home" so if you're interested, let me know. "Stalking" a fictional character is always fun!

**And I wanted to photoshop the perfect Jesse. =/ is there a way to get a poll (with pictures) up? I want input on my selections that I want to merge (evil maniacal laugh). Thanks. =]**

**April 19, 2009**

_Editing._

**April 24, 2009 (5:55 pm, my goal is to get this OUT!)

* * *

**

Shout outs, hear we go:

Blue-Eyed Chica: Heh…heh…I'm not going to give _too _much away… but I'm glad my writing foreshadows potential happenings…=D

I want to be Jesse's girl: Gosh, the whole "one-review-per-chapter" deal…it does get irritating after a bit. "rofl…'me in the flesh…'" Thank you SO MUCH; I'm glad you think my story is epic…but I have to give credit to Meg Cabot. =p Gosh, your reviews always make me SO HAPPY and INSPIRED. Jesse is totally sexy…and I think I found the perfect Jesse. But I need a better shot. He's the model I mentioned above. Indeed, fictional guys ROCK!! Again, I love your reviews. And I know it seems like I don't think of your reviews and stuff, but honestly, sweetie, without these reviews, I wouldn't even bother. Poor self-suffering Jesse. What else can I do to him? =p Sorry for leaving you hanging. I'm sorry! I hope this update was worth the wait. Where do I buy my creativity? Gosh, I actually pull it out of my a—just kidding. I'm not sure. I had this plot since the 7th grade. I just suck at getting it out to you lovely lot. If I were Tinkerbell, I'd SO disperse some of it. =] Please don't melt into a puddle, should you ever meet Jesse—I mean, who else would leave me such lovely reviews? =] _The Princess Diaries_…gosh, I remember seeing those in the library at SUCH a young age, and only until recently did she finish it. I'd never want _Mediator_ to get THAT long, but I did wish she'd give us just one more…=] I liked _Twilight_ until it became a fad. =p Merry Christmas (much belated), Happy Easter, and etc! =]

Lady Clark-Weasley of Books: I'm glad you thought they were in character, other than the Suze being hysterical thing. But after all the crap she's been through, I know we all love the kick butt Suze, but I think she's entitled to some waterworks. I mean, heck, if I lost all my memories, I'd do more than cry. And even in the storyline, she's all "was idiocy a result of concussions" because she too is shocked at her reaction. But Suze gets over it pretty fast. =] She'll be back to normal, trust me. Thanks for the review.

LoonyLuna127: Gosh, sweetie, thanks for reviewing!! "couldn't stop reading." I'm sorry that I'm updating only one chapter. If I can get on the computer sooner, maybe ch 9 will be up. But we all know how terrible I am at that. =/

Satellite Falling: Gosh, you have no idea how long it took to get the conversation just right. And I seriously appreciate how you tell me the highlights of the chapter. Truly, I really appreciate that. I hoped that chapter had a ton of insight, grins, and giggles. =] Omg, I'm proud to say that the dialogue is all me, woohoo! =] I feel so great, being quoted. If I ever become a real author…=] Sister Stick-Up-My-Anus tehe. I seriously wish I could say some of this stuff aloud. Thanks—I'm glad my attempts at humor are not lost. Thank you so much for such a constructive review.

TeamTHEFT: Thanks!!

peppermintlyle: Hope this update isn't disappointing!

Literati Lover: Wow, my fanfic is a really short read!! =] well, considering that there are only 7 (now 8) chapters. Of course. I'm glad you really enjoy it. Spread the word to the masses. Tehe.

Musafreen: Glad it wasn't overly dramatic. =]

Cookiesruletheworld: Gosh, your penname is so great! I'm so sorry for rubbing it in your face, tehe. Umm…err…if I could, I'd totally send you some cookies. =]

*_Suze rubbing in your face_* I've got the cookie AND Jesse. Ha. =p

Aparul: Thanks for taking the effort to review. And Happy…err…Holidays…no matter how belated. If you think about it, I could be early—Christmas is in another 8 months! =p

JuuMasen:(cringe) Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Updating. I hope you smile at your inbox.

pinta08: Thanks SO much for reassuring me. And for reviewing.

Bre: Here you go, hon. I'm sorry for the wait.

Peppermintlyle: I didn't know this was the first fanfic you ever read. I'm seriously so sorry. I know I disappoint a ton of readers. =[

Shalu: What I absolutely hate in movies is when the protagonist gets ABSOLUTELY mortified. I hate it because I can't do anything about it. I won't make anything embarrassing for Suze, promise. I'm seriously sorry for the wait.

Is that it? Here we go, then.

* * *

Ch 8 Supper Reminiscing

As far as hugging went, David got to me first.

The first thing he did when he got back from school was drop off a backpack that sounded like a sonic blast, bound into my room, plop onto my bed, and hug me.

"You're up!"

The force of this energy actually pushed me into the pillows. But I was delighted that someone could be so excited to see me. I mean, even Max wasn't as thrilled as David was. In spite of myself, I felt my face split into a grin. Embarrassed, he disentangled himself from me. Hey—I didn't mind. I rather liked how he had no inhibitions on hugging me. You know. He was fearful of cracking a rib or something. "Hey, Doc, how was school?"

He told me how excited everyone was to hear that I didn't die overnight. (Gee…what faith—wasn't Junipero Serra a Catholic school or something?) I mentally rolled my eyes. He kept going on about how everyone was trying to throw me a surprise welcome-back party, and Adam was going to buy me a year's worth of flaming hot Cheetos. Then he sort of explained something that somewhat made sense until Andy called us to dinner. Doc, blushing, told me that if he were as "physically capable" as his brothers, he would attempt to carry me. He resorted to being my crutch instead. He was all gentlemanly and tried to help me down the stairs. Despite our care, we accidentally knocked over one of Mom's plants at the end of the stairs. We prayed to the plant gods that Mom's vendetta would not be great.

* * *

I was only on my first shrimp, and the still steaming plate was empty before I could grab a second.

Followed by a meaningful cough and a stern look from Andy, David sheepishly offered me his fifth shrimp. David, adorable thing that he was, wasn't the only one feeling guilty, though. Two other plates of surf & turf were thrust beneath my nose. It was thoughtful, thanks, guys, but I'd rather not have shrimp up my nose.

But the garnish came close. Yes, I know, I'm delectable. So delectable, in fact, that a garnish is just that extra pizazz.

It was weird, being spoiled like this, especially by my mom. She kept getting up to refill my glass after every other sip. "Is this too much ice? Should the cubes be more crushed? I don't think the ice is cold enough." I resisted the urge to tell them to jump into the sea and harpoon me Moby Dick's liver.

I had a horrible feeling this was going to keep up.

"Here," Dopey grunted, sort of giving his plate a shake. "I don't want cramps or anything—gotta work out tonight." Sleepy just looked tired of holding his plate.

Well, he didn't look as tired earlier. Interesting subject, that boy. Before David jumped me, Sleepy had knocked tentatively on my door. I barely had time to stash the letters beneath my pillow and grab the nearest magazine when he opened the door. He must have thought that I was out or something. I pretended I didn't even hear the knock, and flipped a page for affectation. Despite discovering the most alarming bit of fan mail (we learned the term "secret admirer" in kindergarten before we even learned its meaning; I did not expect to see it in a high school "hope you recover" letter), I was proud of my feigned indifference as I slowly peered over my W Magazine. Jake ventured further into my room, looking around cautiously as though the ceiling would collapse. Somehow, I had a hunch that this belief was justified by some past rendezvous. He must not frequent my room because he looked so out of place. He had his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, wishing he were somewhere else. Well, that was fine with me. I wished I were somewhere else, too. Back in Jesse's apartment, in fact.

"Hey…!" I had set down my magazine and assessed the Californian in front of me. Shaggy hair. Built. _Sleepy eyes_. Something sparked. I remembered my conversation with David on the phone from earlier that day. Snow White, seven dwarfs. Couldn't have been Dopey, because the one in front of me didn't look _completely _dense…only tired. "…Jake, right?"

His shoulders eased a fraction of a centimeter. "Yeah." He gave me a really quick smile, and I sort saw why Gina was all gaga for him in one of her older letters. Good dental. The smile actually reached his eyes, too, eyes that I later realized were like Andy's, blue and twinkling.

Since I couldn't remember how I used to react in his presence, I gestured for him to come closer to where I was laying. I had been in that position since returning from Jesse's, and I did not intend to get up unless my bladder planned on combusting...if that were a word. He shuffled closer and we sort of just stayed like that.

Well, hell, I seriously had no idea how to react. I seriously couldn't remember if we were close or not. So hit me. We had just sort of stood there. Awkward. Well, sitting on my part. He looked ready to bolt.

Right. I was going to start spewing college talk when he reached into his back pocket. He must have done something out of character, too, because he sort of ran his hand through his hair and shoved a wrapped parcel (complete with a silver bow) in my face. "Here," he said gruffly, and refused to look me in the face. In retrospect, that was probably the only nice thing Jake will ever do for me. But whatever. I took the gift and looked up at him with an obvious question in my eyes.

_What in God's name is this for?_

He sort of shrugged. Well, it wasn't a shrug…it was more of a twitch. "I got used to you."

He paused at the door to say, "Stay out of trouble, will you?" and shuffled out before I could get to the unwrapping stage.

I was pretty sure that, when people gave gifts, it was customary to stay and watch for facial expressions or something. But this was California. With the California poppy as its state flower, who knew.

When I unwrapped the gift, I nearly dropped it. Which would have been completely inane of me because it was the most glorious bracelet I ever saw. That was saying a lot, considering that I still remembered my New York jewelry, and by the looks of my princess dressing table, I hadn't added much to my collection. An Oscar de la Renta bracelet. An _emerald Oscar_ de la Renta bracelet. I took out the bracelet and down fluttered a note like a maple samara/whirligig, landing soundlessly onto my coverlet. I picked it up.

"_Miss seeing you beat the shit out of Brad. Hope your memory comes back._ The next sentence was written in a different pen, as if he haphazardly added it in. "_And stay out of gangs._"

So much for sentimentalities.

"Suze, you sure you don't want any more?" Andy asked. I jolted my head towards Andy and watched him eat…with utensils. It wasn't a genetic thing, then. The not-breathing-while-you-masticate thing.

I politely declined, and I mumbled something about how I'd take dry cereal. Besides, the guys were all so reluctant, as if I told them each time they masturbate, a Belgian supermodel dies.

Andy shot me a crooked smile and kidded, "Should have gotten here sooner."

I gave him a wry smile. "Is it my fault, really, that it takes sixteen minutes to maneuver down the stairs?"

"And you actually knocked over one of Mom's plants in the process. You know, the plants you avoided earlier," David reminded me cheekily, munching on his roll. Before I could register that David called Mom 'mom,' I reached over and messed up his red hair. "You weren't supposed to tell them that!" I kidded. He put on a faux-pout and tried to fix his hair, grinning from sticky-out ear to sticky-out ear. I could feel everyone staring at us. Oh, whatever saints existed…if there was one good thing that came out of this mess, it was my new friendship with my stepbrother.

Following this display of probably unusual affection, I pushed out my chair.

"I guess I'll go get that cereal."

I didn't mind too much, actually; my appetite had been severely curbed after my day with Jesse. But my mom wasn't supposed to know I already had a huge meal with someone.

Especially someone she expressly forbade me to see.

In fact, she was under the impression that I had stayed home the entire time she was out, catching up on sleep and the likes.

Conniving, right?

Andy reached for his knife and began to cut his steak. "Well, if you want that cereal, it's in the pantry…I put a post-it note on it. Just in case."

I smiled at Andy as I pushed my chair out, noticing that five jaws had stopped chewing as they focused their undivided attention on my trek to the kitchen. I suddenly felt five pairs of eyes wait for me to fall. I loved predestined failure. Really. Thanks. I wanted to lean against the wall, but I knew that any sign of weakness would just keep the fretting. And I really didn't want them watching my every move, especially if I planned on spending time with the "dangerous" Jesse. So I gritted my teeth and slowly made my way into the kitchen without any mishaps.

And without my crutches. Praise Jesus.

As soon as I was out of sight, I leaned against the counter, panting, regretting. _I shouldn't have left my crutches back there_.

It look several attempts, but I finally located the dried goods pantry. An adorable smiley-faced post-it note greeted me with a thumbs-up and "you made it!" I chuckled. Andy was such a great goofball. I could see why my mom married him. As soon as he had gotten home today—I figured Mom told him I was alive and lucid—he had rushed into my room.

"Your ribs okay, kiddo?" he had asked, eyes twinkling. Before I could respond (my braining was mulling over this new knowledge of broken ribs), he surmised that, since I was sitting up, I could obviously handle a bear hug.

As I stood up to grab the cereal, I could still feel the burn.

But it was a great burn. It assured me that I still had a nervous system.

Then again…when I was with Jesse that day, there was no doubt I still had my senses…

When I agreed to accompany Jesse home, he gave me one of those spectacular smiles. You know the smile. The one that had me wishing I weren't some handicapped, desperate, wistful fool. Damn me for having such hopes. It could only end in tears and a gallon of Ben and Jerry's. Good Lord, I could never look at a Tollhouse the same way. Or anything written in Spanish, for that matter.

Which kind of blew, considering that everything in America had a Spanish translation under the English text. Damn.

I had bitten my lip. What the heck was my problem? I couldn't behave like a functional human being in front of him. I mean, waterworks? Laughter? I was this complete crying, laughing, dysfunctional nutcase, equipped with crutches. I bet they had a Barbie like that…yes, a complimentary wheelchair included. I promised myself that I would stop with the self-pitying. Because really? Who needs to hear that?

Jesse masterfully backed out of the parking spot, with the whole right arm behind the passenger headrest thing. I sort of saw the appeal in personal vehicles versus mass transportation. Bus drivers weren't the most notoriously handsome. I wanted to keep looking at Jesse, but something caught the corner of my eye, and I got my first appreciative glance at the ocean. I didn't notice it earlier because with my shades, I couldn't see the way the sun glinted off the surface. That expansive horizon I saw earlier just _couldn't _have been the ocean. But it was. I realized that if I had a second love, it was the Pacific. My eyes were able to take in the water without hurting, and I actually lowered my shades to marvel at its majesty. The light just seemed to sashay across the surface. I heard Jesse sigh, and I jerked my head back to his face. One look told me everything. He meant to pull over. I stopped him by gripping the top of the steering wheel. I whipped off my sunglasses and said, in all seriousness, "No, wait. It's okay, Jesse—you don't have time. You have to go to work, and we still have to go back to your home to get your stuff. Remember?"

Jesse waved an flippant hand. "I don't mind being late for you."

My heart came to a halt. "What?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you say?"

"Work. I don't mind being late for work," he said calmly, eyes never leaving the road.

I looked into the distance. Funny. Could have sworn he said something else. Maybe that was just my overzealous imagination. I blamed Disney. I noticed that the highway narrowed into two lanes of traffic. A yellow sign passed, declaring that the speed limit was forty miles per hour. One glance at the speedometer told me that Jesse was actually driving at speed limit. So he wasn't some reckless driver. That knowledge didn't actually make me feel safer, considering that I already felt safe in the first place.

_Silly, masochistic Suze._

The trees outside my window were sparse, revealing a road beyond. I blinked, and suddenly, the passenger side sloped and I couldn't see the mysterious road. I craned my neck to see where it went, but we went under the Cabrillo overpass and it was gone. I tried to remember how often I paid attention to streets, but I still couldn't remember anything. Though I had the odd mental picture of me going all ninja on some thick-necked men in suits, but the image passed. I had to shake my head clear of that one.

It was just so vivid.

I watched the trees multiply. The trees here were dense, muffling the sound of the highway we just left. But the highway was there, refusing silence. Jesse drove familiarly, letting his hand just rest on the wheel, using slight pressure and the ball of his palm to steer. His hands looked so natural.

What was my obsession with Jesse's hands? So they were nice hands. I mean, they _were _nice, sinewy and perfectly tan, broad and paradoxically slim. But that didn't explain my fixation. I quickly glanced at my own and decided I needed a manicure.

Suddenly, I heard the car tires hit gravel. I looked up from my nails and stared as we pulled into the gravel driveway.

Jesse cut the engine. "We're here."

For all his sophistication, I envisioned a huge mansion, complete with a curving driveway and center fountain.

But after hearing part of his life story, I realized that he had undergone so many hardships that a center fountain was currently out of the realm of possibility.

To be blunt, it was far from visions of grandeur. It was small, lacking a carport, let alone a garage.

Wordlessly, he unbuckled his seat belt.

Sexily.

Protection was sexy.

I wanted to slap myself. _Gosh, what is my problem?_

His eyes gauged my reaction, but I kept my face impartial.

I stared at his house instead. Why did architects have this affinity to build front doors above ground level, I ask? New York brownstone apartments were like that too, and it was damn irritating. I mean, what was wrong with building a door right on the ground? Were floods common in good ol' California?

"You can stay in the car. I'd hate for you to fall down the stairs after recuperating so anomalously well."

He was concerned for my well being. I knew that. But he was embarrassed, too, I realized with a start.

"No, no. I want to see your home," I said, smiling supportively.

He hesitated. "Are you sure, Susannah? It's a long way to the front door, and I don't want you to hurt yourself."

It was true that the front door was at least twenty-five steps above ground. But I wasn't going to be deterred.

"I'll take my crutches," I kidded lamely as I opened the door. Except it wasn't funny in the first place. I really didn't expect him to laugh at all.

The spot between his eyebrows furrowed. "No, Susannah. It'll be quicker if I just go and grab—"

"You don't think I can do it, do you?" I said hotly as I swung my legs out the door. Jesse stopped walking towards his apartment and pivoted on a foot. He stopped a foot in front of me and I felt overwhelmed by his sheer height.

I was sitting, after all.

"I don't know you're playing, if you are trying to guilt me into this or if you are being completely serious, but either way, you are staying put. As a dear," he had to breathe, and I actually saw him bite his cheek. It was as if he was keeping something from me. I crossed my arms as well, matching his defiant stance. Stubborn thing. "As a dear friend of yours, I think it is in your best interest if you _please_ stay."

I shrugged, feigning defeat as I blew the hair out of my eyes. _A dear friend. _"Fine, Dr. de Silva, but I expect you out immediately."

I fully intended on sneaking into his house as soon as he was inside. But he did something I didn't expect.

He reached for my face and tenderly held my jaw line in his hands. He paused. His heat traveled through my center, down to my toes and back up. My skin pulsed with unseen electricity. I dared not look up.

Then he kissed the top of my head.

"I'll be right back out, _querida,_" he grinned and vaulted away.

I sort of sat there in a tizzy. Even my head was swimming. Did he just kiss me? Well, on my head, but it was a start, right?

So of course I couldn't go up those stairs and invade his privacy. That would be so underhand of me. I cast one glance back up those stairs and with a sigh, I turned fully into his car.

Where did these morals come from? Really.

I shut my eyes and tried to relax. But it was hard, since my neck was still tingling funny. I tilted my head and started to rub it.

Damn morality.

Life would be so much easier.

Suddenly, I felt a hand behind my back and beneath my thighs.

"Whoa!" I shouted and opened my eyes to see Jesse smiling, his eyes lighter than usual. I realized that my elbow was on his shoulder because my hand was still at my neck. Embarrassingly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he locked his car.

"I changed my mind," he told me before I could ask.

My lips were working overtime, trying not to show my glee. Look, I won't lie to you; you can't stop a smile that's erupting like…well, Krakatoa on energy drinks. I felt euphoria pool into my system faster than anything I'd ever experienced. Oh…Cadbury, Toblerone, and Hershey's had nothing compared to this.

As we made our way up, he explained hastily, "It's frugal compared to the lavish homes of Paul and Tad, I know; but it's temporary." I had no idea who those people were. "I'm attending Monterey Peninsula College because it is so close to my home, and it has a pre-medicine department. But it's a community college, all I can afford right now. But because I'm eligible, I'm applying for scholarships and grants to attend a more prestigious institution—"

We crossed the threshold and Jesse turned to the right to plop me onto an overstuffed leather couch. I blinked a couple of times to adjust my eyes.

The first thing I noticed was the wall opposite the couch. It was covered ceiling to floor with books wrapping around to span the majority of his sparse loft-like apartment's walls. We were in what I assumed was the living room, but I had a hunch his room was filled with more of these books. I saw some authors I recognized, but many of them were thick medical volumes and historical anecdotes. _Bridges of Madison County_. _A Thousand Years_. His home looked lived in, but had that temporary haven trait, where everything looked as though it could be boxed for easy transportation. In the center of the room was a beautiful glass table, on which sat more books, supported by a Plato and a Hippocrates bust book end. Beneath the table was a very rich oriental rug that I was shocked existed in his home. I noticed that his kitchen was a part of the living area, very space-friendly, for it took up only one wall. The fridge and stove fit snugly against that wall. Above the kitchen sink was a window, which overlooked the driveway. His decoration was sparse, but lovely. Random pictures here and there, of which I didn't think I had enough time to look at.

Interestingly, it was incredibly neat.

"It's enough for one person, but this is essentially it," Jesse said, kicking a box beneath the couch. I looked over his shoulder at the open door. He followed my gaze, rubbing a hand through his crisp hair.

"Oh. That's where the bedroom and bathroom are."

I nodded. He opened his mouth, probably to tell me how he was sorry the apartment was so small, but I held up my hand.

I realized that anything I said would come out clichéd. Straight out of a chick flick. His eyes implored me, waiting for me to judge him.

"I wish I had a place like this...something to call my own."

I didn't realize until that moment just how overwrought he was. Suddenly, he beamed.

"Would you like some cranberry juice?" he abruptly asked. Without hearing a response, he turned and headed towards the fridge.

"I thought we were in a hurry," I called from my seat on the sofa.

Jesse was rummaging around in the fridge (I strained my ears to hear the clink of alcohol bottles and was disappointed), and he peeped his head above the door. "I said half hour so we wouldn't dawdle."

"You lied to me?" I asked.

"No…" he straightened with the cranberry juice and shut the fridge with his foot. "I just didn't want to spoil myself."

I smiled, watching him search for a glass. "Plastic's fine," I assured him.

He shook his head and grabbed some Dawn dish soap. "For you it isn't," he countered and began to wash a glass.

I shrugged. "If you like suds, be my guest."

"Oh, I do like suds," he guaranteed with a rakish wink and dried the glass. With a flourish, he began to pour the cranberry juice. I leaned back, enjoying the open window. From the look of it, Jesse didn't have air conditioning. Must be killer in the summer. Instead of pointing out how ungentlemanly his wink was, I pointed out the air conditioning impasse. He handed me the glass and said nonchalantly, "Easy physics."

Really? I wanted to know how he did it.

He grabbed a sports bottle off the top of the table and sat on a nearby folding chair. He took a swig of what I assumed was water and said, "Simply place a fan in front of the window."

I made a mental note to try this at home.

"Con permiso," he apologized, "I need to do what I came here to do. I need to grab my uniform, and there was a book I wanted to show you." He drank some more water before disappearing into his bedroom. I sipped from my glass of cranberry juice and sighed at the relief it brought to my parched throat. I didn't even realize how dry it had gotten. Did Jesse know I liked cranberry juice?

"_Nombre de_—!"

I jumped at his shocked tone. I was about to ask if he was all right when suddenly, there was giggling.

Feminine giggling.

Huh. I thought we were alone.

Damnit.

Well, whatever. Jesse had to work anyway. It wasn't like I planned on jumping him…especially since I couldn't really _jump_.

But in all seriousness, who else was in his bedroom?

I heard bedsprings squeak. "You startled me!" Jesse whispered, astonished.

The voice chirped, "Sorry!"

"Come out from under the covers, _chica_. This is no time for games."

There was a disgruntled sigh. "But I wanted to play with you!"

Any other girl would get paranoid because there was another girl in her man's room. But not me. For one, he wasn't my man. And second, I realized from the "I'm sorry!" that the voice was juvenile.

Unless Jesse was a pedo. But I wasn't going to assume the worse. That got people no where in life. Besides, that would be such a shame.

Just like how John Barrowman and Freddie Mercury were gay.

Another thought struck me: what if he was a single parent?

I stole one last mouthful from my cup and reached for my crutches. I suddenly remembered that Jesse had carried me up, leaving the crutches in the car. I swore mentally. I had better get going if I planned on getting to his room before Armageddon. I set the glass on a coaster and braced myself. With a heave, I lifted myself with my arms supporting my entire weight. I tried to find my feet. When I did, I pushed myself upright. Oh gosh. The closest wall was to my right, so I attempted to cross the room, tripping on my left foot. I felt the wall's saving grace and leaned heavily against it. I must have thudded against the wall because there was a brusque intake of breath.

"What was that?" the childish voice asked.

"Susannah is in the other room."

"You not alone?" _Yeah, that was my thought five seconds before I tripped_.

"No, sweetie, but Susannah's a nice person. Would you like to meet her?" Jesse asked kindly. He must not have heard me stumble, or else he'd have been trying to nurse me back to health. I was a foot away from the door.

"Can she see me? I hate when big people can't see me. Snuffles is gone." From the sound of the girl's voice, she wasn't older than eight.

I heard Jesse inhale. "I'm not sure, _carina_. But we can find out."

I finally could see the bed. Panting, I took another step until I could see Jesse. Even kneeling on the ground, he was nearly taller than the person he was consoling. He was holding the hands of a little girl in a hospital gown who was perched on the bed. The girl was beautiful, with brown tresses framing a cherubic face. She was gnawing on her chubby fist, her hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It was the girl from the hospital.

"Oh my gosh!" I shouted and I took a step forward.

"Susannah!" Jesse shouted fervently. I suddenly realized my error—I couldn't stand on my own yet. Not without preparation. I With a weird shout, I braced myself for impact as Jesse and the little girl reached for me. Suddenly, I hit the ground, but not on hardwood.

My eyes shot open.

Two pillows managed to wedge themselves between myself and the ground, protecting my head and torso from impact.

I noticed that the adorable girl was missing and rolled onto my back with a groan. "What the…?"

Jesse was utterly horrified, spewing frenetic Spanish. "_Nombre de Dios_!! Susannah! Susannah, are you all right?!" He rushed over to my supine form and held his hands above me, as if he didn't know what to do.

But in this scenario, I didn't blame him one bit.

"Where did the girl go?"

"Are you in pain? What hurts? Susannah, speak to me! Did you hit something?"

"How did you get the pillows under me?"

Jesse, exasperated, lifted my upper body up. "Susannah, answer me first. Are you injured?"

"Any more than I already was?" I chuckled to myself. "No, I think you saved me."

Jesse's eyes were still wide. "Save you?? Because of my foolhardiness, you are currently lying on the ground. You could have cracked your skull!! You could have twisted something, ruining the progress your miraculous body made!"

"You think I have a miraculous body?" I sniggered. Jesse's eyes stopped roving for any wounds and focused on my face. "You must have hit something. You are disoriented."

"No no!! I'm fine! You got the pillows under me in time!"

"Pillows..? What—"

Suddenly Jesse noticed the two pillows underneath my body. He stopped and stared and swiftly brought me to his chest. "_Jesucristo_, thank you, _chica_."

From my limited vocabulary, I remembered that _chica _meant something along the lines of _girl_.

"Yeah, about that," I said, muffled in his chest. I was thoroughly enjoying this. His chest was truly glorious. I tried to hide the happiness from my voice. "Who was the girl?"

Jesse loosened his grip on me and I felt disappointment. Damn. He noticed a book exceedingly close to my body, and pushed it away, perhaps in fear that I'd somehow trip on it. But not before I got a glimpse of the title. **Monterey Peninsula: The Golden Age **by Kim Coventry.

"What girl?" he asked.

I craned my neck to look at his now empty bed, where only moments before sat a little girl. "The girl in the hospital gown. I saw her at the hospital today, too." Jesse continued to stare at me. "You know…the girl…with the cherubic face…hazel eyes…wavy hair?" I started to doubt my sanity. I was right—amnesia caused insanity. Too much Valium, maybe.

He smiled suddenly, cocking his head. He must have believed me when I said I wasn't injured. "You could _see_ her?"

Um, ja. he wasn't making any sense. Everything was perfectly normal until this point.

"Why wouldn't I be able to see her?" I demanded angrily.

I wanted an explanation. Jesse refused to meet my gaze. "We should reach your house before your mother returns from work."

I fumed. "Jesse, what is going on? don't lie to me and tell me that there was no child there. There was CLEARLY a girl there, wearing a hospital gown, all adorable with curly brown hair, and now she's vanished. I heard you two conversing and everything. Like, you were going to introduce me to her and all that...this isn't funny."

I snapped my jaw shut, uber peeved. Right. So the lo--, I mean, so the incredibly good looking guy I fancied was laughing at me.

I crossed my arms and swallowed sadness. Great.

"_Querida_, you talk so fast."

"Your point?" I huffed.

Jesse felt my obvious rage and immediately stopped smiling. He looked me in the eye. "Forgive me, Susannah. I fully intend on divulging what you just witnessed today. But that would take precious time we do not have. Your mother probably assumes you are at home, resting, inside of accompanying a suspicious man." He sighed, and I knew that this topic was over. "And hopefully, if you begin to remember, we can discover who the true perpetrator is."

I glanced at his despairing face. He couldn't have been the one. He _couldn't._

"Um, Jesse?"

"Yes, _querida_?"

I chose my words carefully.

"Um."

Indeed, careful syntax.

"Um?" he smiled at me. "You never cease to astound me, _querida_," he said as he pulled me up and helped me to a chair.

Haha.

"Um, Jesse…despite my mom's belief that you had something to do with…whatever, I feel like I know you. And I know you won't hurt me. Just like that little girl I just saw. I need your help in remember who I was before all this," I waved my hand, "happened." I was babbling. I had a feeling that I had a tendency to do that. I was hoping that I wasn't speaking fast, either. "Can you help me?"

He bent down for the book **Monterey Peninsula: The Golden Age** and placed it delicately on the desk, next to what looked like a scrapbook.

"Is that the book you were going to show me?" I asked.

He looked at the scrapbook and stroked the cover reverently. He reached for the edge of the scrapbook, but pulled back his hand to check the time.

"Ah…I need to get you home." He shelved the book but stared at it longingly. "Perhaps another day. Soon."

As he lifted me from the bed, I passed the shelved scrapbook. I wanted to pluck it off the shelf, but figured that today was not the day for mysteries.

The scrapbook, the little girl, and my past.

A/N: okay, the plot is moving slowly. Disappointed? By all means, tell me, but please don't be harsh. I've got exams coming up. I tried to get more of the family in there, like many of you wanted to see. =] Until next time...!


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